


Fear Not The Night

by Enailaim (ChristineNighting)



Series: Dark Brotherhood Bloodlines [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Age Difference, Biting, Bloodplay, Bondage, Denial, Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Implied Slash, Knifeplay, Multi, Murder, Possession, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Smut, Submission, Torture, Vampirism, garlic - Freeform, virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:33:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineNighting/pseuds/Enailaim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From merchant's daughter to a murderer, Zarissis finds herself tossed into a new family as she finds a way to free herself from her old life. However, is becoming the Silencer for Lucien Lachance and falling in love with a 300 year old vampire really as liberating as she thinks? {This is a new and improved updated version of Blood That Binds}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lark and the Vampire

_The church bells rang ominously, almost as if the Gods were attempting to warn the family of their sudden incoming demise. However, whatever message they intended to send was lost. The mother continued chopping up tomatoes, ignorant of all the signs of death around her. The small round fruit crunched and sprayed her hands with red, and she scooped up each diced square and tossed it into the bowl beside her. Behind her, a small child mumbled joyfully to himself as he tapped a tiny wooden soldier on the table._

_Down the hall, around the corner, and into the next room, the lock on the front door was jammed and broken open by the scratched iron lockpick held by steady, gloved black hands. The door squeaked as it was slowly pressed open, but the sound was lost to the ears of the mother and her child in the kitchen. One foot after another passed into the doorway before carefully treading down the hall. The church bells outside continued to toll, the clang seeming louder than it ever had before._

_The mother looked down to find her hands shaking, her heart straining against her chest. She set the knife down, wiping her stained hands on the towel. She picked up a pitcher and poured a goblet of water, unsure of why her body was reacting the way it was, unaware of the man watching her from the shadows, but she did sense that something dreadful was about to occur._

_Only now did the child realize his mother's odd behavior and gazed at her with enormous muddy-brown eyes. The little toy soldier dropped from his sticky hands, thumping against the table in tune with the banging of the church bells outside. "Mommy?"_

_With one last stride forward, the man emerged from the shadows and into the faint light of the candles, his face contorted in the golden glow. The only sound that followed was the metallic cling of the goblet as it dropped from the woman's hands onto the wood floor below._

_Her eyes widened, brimmed with tears. An inaudible noise escaped her lips, followed by a shuddering whimper. She merely shook her head from side to side, backing up so her back was to the table, while the little boy clung to her skirts. Outside, the bells stopped ringing and the air was filled with a thick and heavy silence._

_The man merely laughed, low and guttural. "I'm afraid I have not met your acquaintance, my dear Lady. I am Lucien Lachance, a servant of the Dread Lord." He paused, a menacing smile passing over his face before gazing at the woman's figure, his eyes travelling languidly over her form. His silhouette advanced forward, seeming to float over the ground as if enchanted by some ethereal force. Lucien reached out two gloved hands and expertly popped the buttons on her dress free before stroking his fingers down her alabaster flesh, kneading her soft breasts beneath his fingertips. "It is very unfortunate to meet on such terms. I would have enjoyed seeing what you look like beneath all of these constraining clothes."_

_She shuddered and cried, her body quivering with intense force. Lucien placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face up. "Do you know why I have come, why the Dread Lord requires you at his feet?"His eyes scanned hers for a moment before he frowned._

" _No? That's too bad, then." He let his hand fall away from her and stepped backwards, gazing over at the kitchen knife lying on the cutting board._

_The woman did not speak, instead gripping the table with white knuckles. Lucien lifted the kitchen knife and held it in his palm before turning his head to smile menacingly at her. "So you prefer silence then? As do I, my dear lady. Although I must say, I have never met a woman who would willingly allow her son to watch her death." He merely shook his head. "I expected better of you, Lady Montabell."_

_Gazing down at the child cowering in the chair, he lowered his voice to a growl. "Why don't you go to your room, little one? This is no place for a child." The little boy looked up at his mother, who gave a short nod, her face drained of blood. Hurriedly, the child slid to the floor and rushed past, his little footsteps echoing down the hall._

_Once he was out of earshot, Lucien turned to the woman and wrapped his hand around her neck before shoving onto her back on the table, her hands gripping his wrist as she cried and attempted to pry him off of her. He released her, but his hand quickly came to rest on her chest, pressing her back down._

_He leaned in close to her face, the metal of the knife glinting in the candlelight beside him. "Fighting me will only prolong your pain, my dear." Struggling, she attempted to squirm away from him, resulting in a stinging slap across her face. Tears pricked at her eyes, and finally she found the will to speak._

" _No, no! Please! I'll do anything!" Her cry caught in her throat as his gloved hand raised the knife high in the air, flashing. With one final swing, Lucien brought it down on her throat, spraying himself and the table with her blood as he sliced through her neck. It was not a clean cut, and she jerked and gargled as the blood bubbled through her mouth and neck, streaming over her face and dripping to the floor below, flowering over the surface in a darkened stain._

_Lucien set the knife on the table and dug his fingers into her wound. She strained and choked as he gripped her neck with two hands. He gave one last burst of pressure and broke her spine with a sickening snap, the sound filling him with a delighted warm sensation. He picked his weapon off the table and brought the knife down again, tearing through the remains of her skin and severing her head from her body before tossing the knife into the pool of blood below._

_Lucien lifted the dripping, bloodied head of Lady Montabell and strode down the hall, entering the young boy's room where the child huddled under the bed. His little terrified face peeked out from beneath the bed sheets at Lucien._

_With a grim smile, Lucien tossed the head of his mother to the floor, where it rolled to the foot of the bed before gazing back at the child with lifeless, cold eyes. Almost immediately, the child screamed and broke into sobs._

_Lucien merely laughed. "Thank the Dread Father for his mercy." With one last smirk, he swirled his robes and disappeared, leaving the little boy and the headless mother behind._

* * *

Zarissis sighed and blew a strand of red hair from her eyes before grunting unwillingly. She was never really certain what women found attractive about binding their bodies with corsets, yet here she was, arms splayed outwards as her mother viciously tore at the laces on the death-trap, her ribs threatening to burst.

The only valid reason she had for wearing the damn thing was because oh dear _Tristeran_ was coming to visit. More specifically, he was taking her out to dinner. This was the man her mother had painstakingly picked out for her to marry. _"You'll bring honor on the family,"_ she had said.

_Honor_. Yeah, right. Zarissis could hardly imagine how much honor she'd bring married to a man who couldn't lift a spoon to his mouth without spilling the entire contents of his bowl over his shirt and lap, not to mention that he was simply the _dullest_ human being she ever had the discomfort of being in the same room with. If he wasn't talking about ale and drinking, he was boasting over his father's income and the recent profit his father made as a blacksmith. Smithing in itself is an honorable trade, and one Zarissis respected greatly; however, Tristeran did not have the talents nor the interests of a smith, and instead chose to boast only over money and expensive furnishings. Zarissis wasn't certain if he even possessed any talents.

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of the whole situation was that her marriage was arranged, yet Zarissis's mother had married for love. In fact, she loved the man so much she _dishonored_ her family and married several classes below herself, from a noblewoman to a simple merchant's wife. Her family had disowned her, but Zarissis supposed the price must have been worth it, given that she was here. Yet somehow, Zarissis sometimes doubted her mother's love for her father. Occasionally, the woman scowled at him like he was the most despicable human being she'd ever seen, only to be replaced with a friendly and loving gaze a few moments later. It had puzzled the girl most of her life.

Though it was possible that the woman did _not_ marry for love. Rather than bearing her father's family name, Zarissis was given her mother's family name. She had assumed that she was born out of wedlock, her mother giving birth before the two were married, although the older she got the more she began to question whether he was truly even her father. His hair was platinum blonde, her mother's a dingy brown, yet Zarissis had hair the color of a roaring fire, regularly kept in a long and unusually thick braid that dangled over her shoulder. Maybe Zarissis was actually the bastard child to another man, and her mother's marriage to her father was merely an act to cover up her sin.

She frowned. Even if that was the case, Zarissis resented that she was expected to accept an arranged marriage. She doubted she even wanted to be a wife and mother at all. There was so much of the world to see, so many adventures to experience. Perhaps she wanted to be a mage and study at the Arcane University – she was a Breton, magic was in her blood – or perhaps she wished to join the Fighter's Guild and be a fearsome warrior, maybe even try her hand at Arena. She had read in a book about the Bloodworks beneath the Arena and how men's blood had flowed for so long down its floors that the area was permanently stained red. An illustration had accompanied the description, and the gore had horrified Zarissis so much that she had to close it. However, curiosity overcame her, and every night for a week she turned back to that page to gaze over the scene. It made her pulse quicken to imagine herself there, among the carnage, the fantasy far more entertaining than she expected. Afterwards, her face would burn with shame knowing that the idea excited her. It was wrong and immoral to delight in bloodlust – thus was as Zarissis had been taught.

But had not men killed for love, for joy, for anger, and for the thrill of the chase for centuries? If it was so wrong, then why did so many succumb to it? Why did men go to war for their countries, and why was Arena such a widely accepted and treasured sport?

Zarissis frowned as her mother tightened the last of the laces on her corset. It would never be her place to know or understand the meaning of war and death – her place in society was set. She was to marry a man of her class, bear children, and raise them to be good little daughters and sons.

She slipped her arms into the dull green dress as her mother pulled it over her head, clasping the buttons together in the front. It was dirty and worn, being one of the only nice dresses she owned.

"There, don't you just look darling?" Her mother smoothed her hair down and stepped aside to give Zarissis a view of the mirror.

"I look the same as I always look," she deadpanned, "only wearing a dirty green dress waiting to have dinner with an idiot."

The woman slapped her arm, a menacing glare spreading over her face. "Zarissis, I have gone through all the trouble to find the right husband for you! You scared the last three suitors off; you _will_ behave yourself this time."

Zarissis felt the last three were less despicable than the current.

"My daughter, my _only_ daughter is twenty years old and still unmarried! Most women your age are already wives with children!" She threw her hands in the air while she railed, walking over to the other side of the bedroom to grab a ribbon for her daughter's hair. "Soon you'll be old and fat and no man will want you then. What will you do then, huh?" Her spindly hands seized the braid, resulting in a pained cry from Zarissis. Her fingers deftly laced the green ribbon around the braid in a crisscross pattern before tying it in a perfect bow.

The little redhead merely sighed under her breath, not willing to prolong the rant. The quicker the day could end, the better. She would really prefer nothing more than to curl up in bed with a book and put aside all this meaningless nonsense with suitors for another time.

From the other room, someone banged on the front door with a heavy fist. Her mother's head perked up, eyes glittering, before darting off to let the man in. That would certainly be Tristeran, and despite the fact that Zarissis relished the opportunities to be taken to eat with food that wasn't burnt by her mother, she wasn't too happy to see the man her mother intended her to be with.

It was going to be a _very_ long night.

* * *

Vicente dipped the quill into the inkwell before scrawling his initials on the bottom of the contract in elegant, artistically-formed letters. Several centuries earlier, he would have scoffed at the idea of an assassin's guild having paperwork, yet after resigning his position as Speaker a couple decades earlier it seemed to require a majority of his time.

He scooped a pinch of sand from a bowl and tossed it onto the wet ink before lifting the parchment off the table and blowing the dust to the floor. He reached for the next contract when his hand stilled mid-air and a small smile crept onto his face.

A contract addressed to him lay on the top of the pile, Lucien's handwriting requesting him personally to complete it. A Khajiit residing in Leyawiin had apparently bested at least three other assassins from various Sanctuaries, and Lucien felt Vicente could handle the challenge.

Khajiit have an acute sense of hearing and smell that makes them dangerous, but also alerts them to the presence of others. Vicente's vampiric nature would lend him the element of surprise, up until the moment he sinks his teeth into her soft, velvet neck. Khajiit blood was not as sweet as Bretons or even Altmer, but the overwhelming amount of Moonsugar they consumed tinted it with a tangy flavor.

It had been a while since he fed, and he certainly _ached_ to taste blood. The thirst was not merely a burning on his tongue, but an ailment that affected his whole body. Apart from the overwhelming desire to sink his teeth into the pliable flesh of the living, he was also filled with a carnal need to sate sexual appetite, to feel the wet warmth of a woman around his waist and straddling his hips…

Vicente snapped his eyes shut, nostrils flaring. He had spent the past three hundred years attempting to control his nature, and the last thing he needed was to lose it and fuck the next thing that walked through his chamber door – most likely Lucien, and he doubted the Speaker would be amused if found himself tossed onto a table with his robes around his waist, being taken from behind by the resident vampire. Oh no, undead reflexes or not, Vicente was sure that would end with a silver dagger jammed into his heart.

In all honestly, accidentally taking the Speaker was one of the least of his concerns. A member of the Dark Brotherhood had been murdered only a few weeks ago, her corpse mutilated almost beyond recognition. The slices had been made by a deft and clever hand, one that understood the anatomy of a body better than any typical person, and the assassin's target certainly did not possess the skill to kill someone so artistically. The craftsmanship was like unto Lucien Lachance himself and some of the best assassins the organization possessed, and nobody other than the Dark Brotherhood knew where she would be heading. That meant that a traitor was on the loose, and Lucien had been out all night trying to get to the bottom of it. Vicente didn't have high hopes for what he'd discover, though. His gut told him that this was only the beginning of a very dark time.

* * *

Zarissis released a silent groan. It took all of her willpower not to cover her face with her hands and sink down into her chair in shame. Tristeran was perhaps somewhat drunk, and was now talking at a tone level that Zarissis was certain would _not_ qualify as an 'indoor-voice', not to mention that she still didn't want to be there in her current situation. It was her mother's guess that he'd likely propose to her during the night, and Zarissis was expected to say yes. If she said no, she'd likely be kicked out onto the streets before dawn. Her mother was at her wit's end and was not going to put up with any more of Zarissis's behavior.

Tristeran had taken her to the Five Claws Inn, the only of the two places within Leyawiin that was cheap enough for what meager money he made helping his father. She did appreciate the gesture, as courting a woman could be costly, but given that it was against her will, it was still just as unpleasant. Of course, the poor sod didn't even know that this wasn't her choice. He genuinely believed she wanted to marry him, given the rumors and lies her mother had fed him.

She glanced around the worn building, the different patrons only casting a few glances toward them before looking away. Tristeran launched into an animated rant on the choice of upholstery for the furniture in the Imperial Palace, and Zarissis's mind instantly zoned him out, only paying enough attention to nod in all the right places. She caught the eye of the Argonian innkeeper across the room and made a pained expression. The woman merely smiled sympathetically back – an action which was not entirely reassuring due to the rows of sharp teeth in her mouth.

Tristeran waved his hand in front of her face, making the girl jump before straightening herself and giving him her attention. "Zarissis," he began, confidence seeping into the tone of his voice, "We haven't known each other for very long, but I've grown fond of you these past few months." His eyes genuinely glimmered as he said this, although Zarissis was confused as to how a man could love someone who never spoke and only nodded when spoken to.

Tristeran reached across the table and took her hands in his. "I have decided that it is time we take things…farther in our relationship." He smiled gently at her, caressing the back of her palm. "Zarissis, I want to marry you. I've spoken with your parents and earned their blessing. Now all that there is left to do are the minor details, and we can be together."

This certainly wasn't what Zarissis wanted, not one bit. Her mind raced, not knowing what conclusion to come to or what words to say. "Tristeran, I–"

"Wonderful!" She was cut off as he belted joyfully and stood up, knocking his goblet on the wine to the floor in the process. He pushed out his chair and walked around the table before pulling the tiny red-head into a hug and kissing the top of her head.

She didn't know what to say, and the words wouldn't come to her mouth. Zarissis simply stood there and faked a smile as Tristeran announced their engagement to the inn, hugging and kissing her forehead the entire time. The patrons stood up and shook hands with both of them, and more wine was brought out. Zarissis kept up her false face as the inn celebrated, although her mind was a mixture of confusion and turmoil.

Her life had been sold away, a slave to the system of marriage. She was to be bound by children and her husband, wearing a golden ring instead of chains. Whatever dreams and hopes she may have had were no more.

Panic began to seize the little red-head's mind. An overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia began to cloud her vision and her mind went numb. She blinked slowly and tried to take slow breaths to calm herself, but her skin began to moisten with heat and sweat.

Zarissis tugged on Tristeran's sleeve, who turned to look at her expectantly. "I – I'm…" Her words caught in her throat as she began speaking. Carefully, she focused on her next sentence. "I'm hot and feeling faint…I need to step outside for a moment."

Tristeran frowned. "Are you alright? Do you need me to come with you?"

She merely shook her head and pulled away, pressing open the door to the inn and letting the cold breeze outside bite her skin. The door shut behind her, muffling the noise from within.

Outside in the night, Zarissis's head began to clear. She gazed up at the bright full moon in the sky, the moonbeams kissing her rosy cheeks and illuminating the fiery hue of her hair. She inhaled deeply through her mouth and closed her eyes, attempting to reorganize her thoughts. She didn't want to linger around the inn anymore and she certainly didn't want to see Tristeran's face again. All she really desired was to curl up and sleep in her bed.

_Perhaps forever_ , she decided. Death didn't scare her, but immortality did. To live forever, day after day, in a life that she didn't even have control over would be her own personal Oblivion. _Maybe if there was someone to love, who loved me back._ Unfortunately, she didn't really know how that felt. How could anyone love someone so much they would give their life for them…to them? _No,_ she announced in her head, _I'd rather die._

Zarissis stepped off the porch off the inn and left the party behind her, with home as her destination. She had left her coat back with Tristeran, so she clutched her bare arms as goose bumps rose on her skin. The wind caught her dress and ruffled it, and soon enough she was frozen to the bone, but Zarissis couldn't bear to turn back and set eyes on her fiancé again.

Taking a path through the alleys would be the quickest way back to her home. Cutting down one, she rushed into the darkness, the buildings blocking the direct light from the moon. Just as she was about to re-enter the street on the other side, someone grabbed her by her dress from behind and swiveled her around, grabbing her by the wrists and pushing her into the side of the building, shrouding both of them in the shadows.

She was turned to face a man with greasy, unwashed blonde hair who pressed a knife to her throat. "Why 'ello there beautiful, why is such a love'y creature comin' through my alley?" His free hand reached up and fondled her breast before resting on the buttons of her dress. "If you don't scream, I promise to be quick, and I won't cut yer throat." He leaned in and pressed a dirty kiss to her chin.

Zarissis was paralyzed with fear and shock, merely standing there while the man hiked her skirts up around her waist. She tried to make her mind work, but all that returned was a blank emptiness. In her state of confusion while her eyes were locked with the man before her, she never saw the shadow begin to descend on the pair of them before gripping the man's neck with one pallid, lithe hand.

* * *

Oh, Vicente had found the trip to Leyawiin frightfully _boring_. Not a single person along the road to snack on, and then the Leyawiin guards didn't even question why a cloaked stranger entered the city at nightfall.

He was just returning from finishing his contract. Vicente had been able to sneak up on the Khajiit woman, but as soon as he narrowed in for the kill, the damn cat turned around and lashed at him with poison-coated claws. Luckily, vampires are naturally immune to poison, or Vicente would have felt the effects of paralysis and the she-devil would have staked him through the heart. Instead, he broke both of her wrists and tied her to a table before tearing out each of her claws, one by one. Torture was usually preferred by Lucien over himself, but Vicente felt he owed it to the other brothers and sisters who had failed the contract. While she howled and begged him for mercy, Vicente decided it necessary to crunch each of her ribs as well. Finally she had succumbed to the pain and blacked out, after which Vicente leaned into her neck and drank her blood until her skin shriveled. Not only was it refreshing, but it restored some human qualities to his face, filling his cheeks in, as well as healing the scratches left by the target.

Vicente had left her in her home for friends or family to find, and broke out into the moonlight, relishing the beauty of the night. He didn't get out often, sadly, but when he did he was always amazed by how graceful the night was. As he turned his head up to gaze at the moon, his ears picked up someone's voice from the back road nearby.

It was a man threatening a woman. He was certainly planning to rape and kill her, by the sounds of it. This was not an unusual situation, and Vicente admitted to having done just that to several people in the past, but something compelled him to walk over. As he neared the alley and gazed around the corner, he saw a young Breton girl with her eyes focused on the man in front of her while he lifted her skirt, her poor little heart pounding with terror. With his excellent night vision, Vicente could see the gentle youthfulness of her face and her wide green eyes. There were freckles brushed over her nose and cheeks, and the criminal in front of her tore her hair from its braid, releasing orange messy locks to drape over her shoulders and breasts.

She couldn't have been more than a child. Vicente was tempted to allow the filthy Imperial to have his way with her just to allow his eyes to linger on her for a bit longer, but he knew the man would slice her neck when he was done. It was a pity to waste such young beauty, and frankly, the vampire felt he didn't deserve the satisfaction. Although Vicente could admit to having committed sins worse than his, he was an assassin, a master of the art of stealth and killing. To attack a woman in an alley was a disgrace. Had it been him, he would have seduced her with charm before ending her with a bit more dignity.

He sighed, his mind made up. Dropping into a crouch, Vicente stalked and launched himself at the rapist, his hand pulling the man back and choking him. The little red-head's eyes widened, suddenly realizing what was occurring just as Vicente put his hands on both sides of the Imperial's head and twisted, the man's neck snapping in one smooth action.

She cowered against the wall, gazing at him with large, horror-struck eyes. Vicente pushed the man's body out of the way and slowly reached out a hand like one would to a wild animal.

"Don't panic, my dear. He won't hurt you now." He spoke to her in a soft voice, and after a moment she reached out and slipped her palm into his. He carefully guided her out into the light where she'd feel more comfortable. Her eyes darted over his figure and squinted slightly as she attempted to see his face beneath the hood.

"Th…Thank you," she stammered, her hand shaking lightly in his. "You saved my life." A small, tiny smile grazed over her lips, and she looked at him with a newfound admiration despite that he just ended a life before her.

Oh, she was _darling_ , but the poor thing was in such a state of calamity that she didn't think to be afraid of him. She _should_ have been – any man who can kill another by breaking his neck in one simple move is someone to be afraid of, but instead the tiny little thing merely gaped at him in adoration.

"Aren't you a little flower?" Vicente chirped, an unseen grin passing over his face. It was really not often that he was looked upon in such a way without magical influences such as a charm spell or enthrallment – usually they were screaming in terror otherwise. He was incredibly flattered and patted her hand gently. "You should run along now. There are worse nightmares in the dark than the man you just met." He grinned at himself, running his tongue along his fangs while his face was still obscured by shadow. He released her and turned away, but her small hand reached out and tugged on his cloak.

"Wait! I'm desirous to know my hero's name, please?"

Vicente merely laughed and turned around, his bark causing her to furrow her brow. "Ah, a hero I am not, I'm afraid. My name is Vicente." He figured that perhaps she might remember his name in the future, and the next time he visited Leyawiin he might be able to drop in on her and discover if her blood was as sweet as she was. "And your name, my lady?"

"Zarissis, although I prefer Zaris."

"Zaris is a very exotic name for a Breton." Oh, how she looked at him like she was about to wilt! The older vampire may have been a cold-blooded killer, but he considered himself a gentleman to some degree, and it seemed that the child might collapse in the street should he leave her presence. Very well, Vicente certainly was not going to complain about being able to spend a few more minutes in the presence of his admirer.

"Shall I walk you home, little songbird?"

At the playful pet name, Zaris's cheeks flushed to a lovely pink color, and Vicente could hear the fluttering of her heart in response. He felt himself overcome with delight by the way her body responded so willingly to him. He would _definitely_ have to return to Leyawiin again another time to exploit this discovery.

The little bird nodded and looped her hand over his arm, which he held out to her. She pointed out where her house was and the two walked slowly down the street. Zarissis kept sneaking glances up at him, still trying to decipher his face through the darkness of his hood.

"I take it you don't live around here?" Her voice was tinged with disappointment.

"I'm afraid not. I'm only in Leyawiin for business."

She didn't respond, merely falling into a quiet sadness. After a moment, she glanced back up at him. "I wish I knew what you looked like beneath your hood."

Vicente hummed in response. "If you saw my face, dear lady, I'm afraid I'd have to kill you too." It'd be such a shame to waste such a wonderfully smitten girl.

Her heart fluttered with shock, and Vicente smiled almost menacingly as her eyes widened yet again. He could hear her pulse change dramatically as several thoughts crossed her mind. She opened her mouth as if to say something and promptly shut it again, turning her face back toward the road, casting confused glances his way.

Her house came into view, and Vicente felt a pang of disappointment. He wanted to linger in her presence just a few minutes longer and see how else he could manipulate her heart to beat erratically while he watched her look at him like a tiny, fragile bird, but it was getting late for Vicente and he needed to head back to Cheydinhal.

Vicente walked her to the door before releasing her arm. He leaned on one knee, took her hand, and planted a gentle kiss on it.

"Until next time, dear child." With that, he stood up and departed, leaving the confused red-headed Breton behind to contemplate the day's events.


	2. Chapter 2: A Chance Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarissis finds herself in quite the predicament.

A/N: Sincerest apologies for just how long this took to get out. I'm a little ashamed, but after moving twice within the past few months, life has been hectic. I finally have time to myself, so a third chapter will be soon underway.

* * *

As far as cities went, Lucien found Leyawiin to be positively _dull_. Even Bravil had more going for it than the little city – Bravil was at least poor enough to be littered with gangs and Skooma addicts. However, every now and then someone would be arrested for assault or another would have an affair on their husband or wife and a murder would be arranged. Otherwise, the streets were usually left empty and the residents' pockets devoid of anything worth stealing.

On this particular day, Lucien had been requested specifically by the Night Mother to come…and observe. This was typically the way of business – the Listener would be told by the Unholy Matron to send a Speaker somewhere, where the Speaker only had to wait for a murder to be performed. The murderer was always left unaware that their dark sin had been observed by forces unknown to them, and then Lucien would sweep in during the night and wake them from their slumber, towering over them like a dark messenger of death before reciting his catch phrase.

Lucien was not completely alone in the city, however. He had assigned Cheydinhal's resident vampire to a contract within Leyawiin's walls. With any luck, the two might be able to meet up and have a drink. Lucien always did love a good bar fight, and it was _so fun_ to push Vicente's buttons.

Granted, it was probably not best to rouse the sleeping beast within Vicente, but Lucien was well acquainted with his boundaries. It would take a lot to release the full nature of the vampire, and Lucien was sure never to push him to that extreme. He had only seen it released once, many years ago, when Lucien had been serving Vicente as Silencer. Lucien supposed that seeing the monster inside of Vicente shouldn't have been such a surprise, but Vicente had been the one to find and induct him into the Dark Brotherhood. The elder Breton had never been anything but clever and encouraging, praising Lucien in his successes as he rose through the ranks. Seeing Valtieri break had been a life-changing moment for the Imperial, who believed until then that he was indestructible, as silly as it sounded. It was difficult for Lucien to accept that his role model and mentor was not as perfect as he thought he was.

After Vicente stepped down and Lucien took his position as Speaker, he admittedly had distanced himself from the vampire. As Vicente had put it, his 'damn ego' had prevented him from turning to the Breton for guidance. Lucien did regret that the relationship had become strained, but he could not tear down his pride long enough to apologize and mend what had been broken. Instead, Lucien took to teasing and poking at Vicente, hoping that he might recognize Lucien's attempt to reconcile through the cold nature he presented.

Lucien's fingers buzzed with magicka as he held the chameleon spell, allowing him to sneak through the dark alleys completely undetected. He was not certain what he was looking for or who the Night Mother intended for him to recruit, but he could already sense that it was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

Silence ominously hung in the air as Zarissis laid in bed, gazing at the full moon hanging in the sky beyond her window. The day's events repeated over and over in her head, from her engagement to the chance acquaintance with the mysterious man. He was unlike any other she'd ever encountered – he was polite and strong, a light in the darkness when she had no hope. He was a traveler, meaning soon he'd be long gone and the little redhead would never see him again. He had saved her life, breaking a man's neck with his bare hands in one fell swoop. She had only heard stories of men with such strength.

What would it be like to have power like that to decide her own fate? Many years ago, her father used to sneak her with him to go hunting. He'd crouch behind her and whisper instructions as she pulled the string of the bow back, each arrow aimed with purpose at the prey. Her fingers would release and the arrow would bury itself in the breast of a deer. Later, her father's large hand would guide hers as he taught her how to skin an animal, peeling away flesh with each swipe of the blade. These were the times she felt most at peace within herself and became one with her primal instincts.

Her mother eventually found out, tearing through the house while screaming. She found Zarissis's bow and snapped it in two before she tossed it at the feet of the crying child. She never did find the dagger, which Zarissis kept well hidden.

Since then, she had let others make choices for her. She lost her voice and her identity to the desires of her mother, and while she loved the woman, a desire for freedom had been gnawing at her soul for longer than she could remember.

Zarissis threw the blankets to the floor and hopped out of bed. It had been so long since she felt a fire burning in her heart, and she remembered the days when not a single person could have held her down. Her mind was made – she would _not_ marry Tristeran.

Marching to the chest at the foot of her bed, Zarissis grabbed a heavy dark green travelling dress and her cloak. Her fingers deftly tied the laces to the dress before tossing the brown cloak over her shoulders. Reaching toward the bottom of the chest, Zarissis felt around under her fingers grasped at the rough fabric of a bag and the worn hilt of the dagger from long ago.

The dagger had been stored in its scabbard, and since then rust had eaten at the blade. Still, if Zarissis desired freedom, she needed to go now, and even children knew the roads were littered with bandits. She tucked the dagger into the band of her dress and threw a pair of clothes into the bag.

Treading to the side, she bent down and reached a hand into the dust, pulling an old tome from under her bed. With a huff of breath, she blew the grime off of the cover, revealing the text below: _Immortal Blood_.

It was her favourite book. When her mom discovered it, she merely huffed and sighed. " _Zarissis,"_ she had said, _"Everyone knows vampires are just a myth meant to scare children. You're wasting your time reading that rubbish."_ Zarissis did not listen, and stashed the book away under her bed, only pulling it out in the middle of the night with a small candle lit to reread the book until its pages were worn and thin and the spine had cracked.

The idea of a person having immortality and hunting in the dead of night excited her. How did such a phenomenon happen, if vampires did exist? Did they still eat human food and look like humans? Maybe Zaris had met a vampire and didn't know it. Either way, she used to entertain the idea of becoming an adventurer and learning the world's secrets for herself, and now it seemed her wildest dreams may just come true.

Zarissis stuffed the book into her bag and tossed the pack over her shoulders before slipping on her shoes. As a last minute idea, Zarissis snatched her coin purse from a table and tucked it into her bag. Quietly, she tip-toed out of her room, mindful of her parents' snoring in the bedroom over. She would miss them both, especially her loving father, but this was something she had to do – there was no other choice. _And marrying Tristeran isn't a choice_ , she added. She would steal away in the night like a thief, all for the pursuit of freedom. If men fought and died in battles for liberty, then surely her sacrifice was minor in the large scheme of life.

She unlatched the door and quietly stepped out, the door squeaking slightly as she closed it behind her.

* * *

Zarissis had forgotten how dark the nights were. Only the soft glow of the moon and the occasional street lantern chased away the shadows. She was usually afraid of the dark, but now was not a time for fear. With a deep breath and her cloak clenched tightly around her tiny figure, the redhead stormed into the dark and through Leyawiin's streets.

Once she was through the gates, she honestly didn't know where she'd go. The streets would certainly be littered with bandits and a little girl wandering in the night was an easy target. Zarissis could only hope that Old Lady Luck would smile upon her and she could venture without harm.

Guards gave her odd looks but didn't say anything as the cloaked redhead swiftly trotted down the road. She wondered if the mysterious stranger who saved her was still around. Perhaps he knew where she could travel safely, or maybe even provide assistance by escorting her to an inn.

It was a pointless wish. She quickly realized that she was on her own as the gate began to fade out of the shadows, finally visible through the darkness. Zarissis's heart skipped and she was certain that she had made her escape until a rough hand seized her arm and pulled her into an alleyway.

Zarissis would have screamed but her terror clouded out any other senses. Another hand tore her cloak from her head and she was turned to face a drunk, unwelcome face.

"Zari', where ya goin'?" Tristeran sputtered through his drunkenness. Despite being intoxicated, Zarissis found herself unable to tear his hands away. He was surprisingly strong, keeping her in place with a brute strength that Zarissis couldn't fathom anyone having.

"Please let me go!" Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she begged. So close, _so close_ , only to be foiled by the very person she had grown to loathe. Bile rose in her throat as pure hatred burned within her.

"Are you tryin' to run away? Yo're supposed to be my wife!" He pulled Zarissis to his chest, accidentally crushing her ribs until she gasped in pain. One hand gripped her by the hair and roughly pulled her face up to his before he mashed lips against her, locking the unwilling girl into a kiss.

Zarissis attempted to push the larger man away, but her attempts were feeble. At last he released her, only to wrap an arm around her waist.

"Yo're comin' with me," he spluttered as he clumsily dragged the girl, "I'ma take you home, then yo'll never leave me!"

She beat her fists against his arms and chest, but the man only pressed on, ignoring each of her tiny hits. A deep animalistic growl escaped her throat as Tristeran tightened his arm on her waist. She would not lose everything to him, to this _creature._

The pressure of his grip pressed something hard into her ribs, something that was tucked and hidden underneath the band of her dress, slipped there right before she left. A sinister and wicked thought entered her mind, one that she found she could not shake. The thought became an action as Zarissis squeezed her hand underneath Tristeran's arm and beneath the dress band, her fingers touching the warm leather hilt of the dagger.

In one swift action, she extracted the blade and swung her arm around, burying warm steel into the body of the man she was sworn to.

He released her as pain overwhelmed him, forcing him to his knees in the dark alley. Zarissis stumbled before regaining her balance, and slowly stepped over until she hovered over the dying man. With a gentle kick, she pushed him onto his back and pulled the dagger from his chest.

Tristeran stared at her with horrorstruck eyes, gurgling on his own blood as it flooded his mouth. The life drained from his eyes, leaving a glassy gaze and motionless figure in its wake.

Zarissis watched in numb apathy, the emotion draining from her body as blood dripped down the blade of the dagger and onto her pale fingers. An accident; she didn't know what pushed her to stab him, or what force even made her draw her weapon in the first place. All she could recall was blind rage and that same, familiar feeling of being a rat within a cage.

Realization finally dawned on her and panic overwhelmed the girl. She threw quick glances down both ends of the alley to make sure her act hadn't been watched. No guards in sight, but Zarissis couldn't fight the feeling that there was a witness. The hair on the back of her neck pricked and a desperate nervousness tore at her being. She had to get out of there.

Wiping the blade and her hand on Tristeran's tunic, Zarissis sheathed the dagger in her dress band and pulled her hood up, clenching her cloak as she ran down the alley. The gate, she had to reach the gate. Someone would find her – _if_ they found her…

 _No_ , she told herself as she ran, _I can do this. All I need to do is pass the gate._ Pass the gate and rush into the darkness. The shadows would swallow up evidence of her presence and she would finally get the freedom she'd killed for.

Her heart pounded as she dove into the light of a streetlamp, the soft glow illuminating the forms of two guards and the ominous gate. Zarissis slowed her pace and tried to gain some composition, although her heart's erratic beating would not slow.

The gazes of the guards centered on her as she approached.

"Hello there! What is a young person like yourself doing out at night?" The guard narrowed his gaze at her cloaked figure, but did not question her apparel. Zarissis was relieved they did not ask her to remove her hood; the less people saw her identity, the better.

"I am a traveler on business. I need to leave the city to get to my destination by daybreak." Her mind automatically retreated to the mysterious hero she'd met earlier in the evening, and she found herself reciting his reason for being in the city. Certainly he'd entered the city at night, given that he had been wandering the streets and not within an inn. Surely if they'd let a cloaked stranger enter, they'd allow her to leave?

Zarissis's suspicions proved correct. The guard merely nodded before shaking his head. "Yeah, go ahead. So many of you guys here tonight, all wearing cloaks. Think I've seen three now." The guards pulled open the gate, revealing the way.

With a silent sigh of relief, Zarissis stepped through the threshold of the city and into the shadows.

* * *

Lucien watched the girl with a smug smile on his face. Another child had entered the cold darkness of the Night Mother's embrace. It wouldn't be too long before the girl murdered again, this time for the glory of Sithis.

 _Not yet,_ Lucien reminded himself silently. _But soon._ The minute the little murderess laid her head down to sleep, Lucien would loom over her figure. He always loved that moment when he could observe a future Brother or Sister, faces calm and composed in their dreamless sleep. Lucien liked to imagine their faces just like that, but locked in emotionless apathy and blood splattered as they tore flesh and broke bone, leaving pain and terror in their wakes. The Speaker was determined to turn each and every one of them into an assassin to be reckoned with. They were his works of art, and he the painter. When he was done, they would be masterpieces of destruction.

This girl would soon join their ranks, Lucien was sure of it. He kept his eyes locked on her as he hid underneath a chameleon spell in the shadows. From his position, he could see her face perfectly, the glow of the moonlight slipping beneath her hood and illuminating her round cheeks and delicate cheekbones.

So beautiful, so emotionless. She was stunned by her work, likely an accident done within the heat of the moment, but it was a murder nonetheless. The Night Mother had called his attention to it and he was glad to watch.

And the show was much more entertaining once Lucien realized that this girl was killing her fiancé. Lucien wasn't really the romantic type, but he could appreciate the passion behind murdering a loved one; although this girl didn't really seem to love him all too much, if she was running away. Lucien felt that she looked far too young to be engaged to be married; her gentle features and small frame suggested that she was merely a child, at least when compared to himself and certain _other_ members of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

The Speaker followed behind her, shadowing her every movement as she progressed into the shadows.

* * *

Zarissis was surprised to see that she made it along the road unscathed. Old Lady Luck had smiled upon her and preserved her from any cruel bandits or hungry wolves. By the time she reached the village, the sky was beginning to turn orange with the break of dawn.

The town of Border Watch was inhabited by Khajiit, and many were just beginning to rise and begin their morning routines. Zarissis pulled her hood down, revealing her braided flaming orange hair, and wandered into the village.

Some of the Khajiit who were beginning to head outside to tend to gardens and animals gave her polite, curt nods. Zarissis smiled back before making her way toward the Border Watch Inn.

Inside the rickety inn, a Khajiit behind the counter grinned ecstatically, revealing pointy teeth. "Hello, hello! May I get you a room, or something to eat perhaps? We have the finest selection of cheeses that cannot be found anywhere else!"

"A room and some bread would be fine." After a moment of staring at the excited women, Zarissis sighed. "And I suppose I'll take some cheese with that too."

"Oh perrrrfect! I am S'thasa, pleased to meet your acquaintance." A deep rumbling purr began in her throat. "The room is ten septims, and bread and cheese will be five."

Zarissis reached into her bag and pulled out the small coinpurse. She picked out the fifteen septims and placed them on the counter, leaving a hefty dent in her pocket. She didn't know how far she could make the money stretch; in her passion to leave, she didn't plan well enough ahead.

 _Too late to go back now_ , Zarissis thought to herself as S'thasa lead her to her room. _I've killed a man and my parents will likely know it was me. If I go back now, my mother will turn me in. I'll spend the rest of my life in the Imperial Prison._

Zarissis wasn't risking that. She took the bread and slice of cheese from S'thasa and closed the bedroom door, sitting on the edge of the bed. She tore off piece after piece of bread and ate it with cheese, savoring every bite. With as little money as she had, food would likely become scarce.

_Maybe I'll die in the wilderness as a punishment for murder._

Finishing her meal, Zarissis kicked off her shoes and unclipped her travelling cloak, throwing it over the foot of the bed. Her fingers slowly pulled the knots out of the laces on her dress before pulling it over her head.

With a low groan, Zarissis realized that she left her bedclothes at home. Oh well, she supposed she could sleep in her smallclothes, but it'd feel so unusual after many years of having a nightgown. Yawning, Zarissis unbraided her hair, orange locks falling over her shoulders in loose waves. She peeled back the thin blankets and furs of the bed and huddled inside, cocooning herself in the bed.

Only a few short minutes later, Zarissis's eyes drifted closed, and she slipped into a deep sleep.

* * *

Zarissis's blood turned to ice as she was torn from a deep sleep, heart pounding wildly against her chest. Her eyes flew open and she clutched the sheets to her chest as she saw a cloaked stranger hovering above her bed, a magelight beside him. The light shined on his face, revealing a strong jaw and handsome features…and the coldest, deepest shade of brown eyes Zarissis had ever seen.

"You sleep rather soundly…for a _murderer._ " The man's deep voice reverberated in the room, bringing goose bumps to Zarissis's arms. "That's good, you'll need a clear conscious for what I'm about to propose."

"Get out, or I'll– I'll– " Her voice tapered off as she glanced over to the table where she had thrown her bag, dagger still inside, out of arm's reach. Damn her forgetfulness; she should have put it under her pillow!

"Or you'll stab me, just like you did to that poor pathetic mess of a boy?" The cloaked stranger laughed mercilessly, a sound that chilled Zarissis's bones. "Your work, your _deathcraft_ , pleases the Night Mother, which is why I have come to you. I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. You have taken a life without pity or remorse, and the Night Mother is most pleased. And so here I am, bearing an offering. An opportunity… to join our rather _unique_ family."

 _The Dark Brotherhood…?_ Zarissis had heard stories of the religious organization dedicated to their Lord of Chaos, Sithis, but said stories were always told to children to frighten them. Once or twice Zarissis had caught whispers within Leyawiin of murders, said to be deeds of the Brotherhood. Everything Zarissis had ever learned suggested that the Dark Brotherhood was pure evil, but here was a Speaker for the Brotherhood, offering _her_ a chance to join their family?

He was right, though. She hadn't felt remorse when she saw Tristeran's body lying lifeless on the ground at her own hands. She felt nothing.

Confusion raged within Zarissis's mind as she fought to grasp some form of response. Freedom was what she wanted, and she was currently low on money. On her own, she wouldn't last a week in the wilds. It was a long way to any major city, and her little rusty iron dagger wasn't enough to keep her alive.

Besides, didn't she often daydream about stories of darkness and bloodshed? Her mind returned to the book about the Arena and the intricate picture of the Bloodworks. She had obsessed over the idea of fighting in the Arena for many months, imagining herself coated in the blood of the men she had killed. Was being an assassin really that different? As a sport, it was socially acceptable, but it still involved taking lives.

With a deep sigh, Zarissis resigned her fate. If she wanted to live, this was probably the best offer she'd get. "Fine. I'm listening."

"Then heed my words, for I will not repeat them. On the Green Road to the North of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omens. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

Zarissis frowned. Bravil was the city closest to Leyawiin, and she supposed it wasn't _too_ far away, but it still seemed like quite the walk. Although she _had_ seen a horse tied to a fence at the edge of the village. Zarissis wasn't a thief, but walking was slow, and a girl alone on the road is an easy target. Speed would be her friend.

Lucien Lachance reached into his coat and pulled out a sinister dagger. "Please accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well."

Zarissis stretched out a hand and removed the blade from his open palms. Gripping the intricately engraved hilt, she drew the blade. The dagger slipped from its sheath silently, metal glinting dangerously in the magelight. Zarissis didn't dare press a finger to the blade; she could see its sharpness very clearly. This was a weapon made to tear skin and flesh like paper.

"Now I bid you farewell." Lucien's voice pulled her gaze away from the blade. "I hope we'll meet again very soon."

His form slowly faded out of focus until Zarissis was left in the room alone. An invisibility spell of some sort, she presumed, as her door silently opened and closed again.

From what she had seen of his face, he'd been quite handsome. Probably used his good looks to seduce women into joining his organization. He was the kind of man her mom would have fawned over…well, everything except the cold-blooded killer part.

A sudden shock of realization hit Zarissis and her cheeks turned pink as she realized that he had been in her _room_ , standing over her _bed_ , and she hadn't been wearing a nightgown, only her bra band and smallclothes.

 _Damn him!_ She was so caught up in the mystery of it all that she had forgotten the decency to cover up. The bastard probably relished every moment that he got to sneak into a girl's room and wake them from a deep sleep. _Creep…_

Regardless, Zarissis felt obliged to at least go to the Inn of Ill Omens. She would have several days to contemplate whether or not she'd actually kill this Rufio. Still, Zarissis wanted freedom and there was no going back now, and she knew that her days would be numbered by herself. The promise of a new family in an organization of killers wasn't really the best option, but it was a better alternative to death.

 _And maybe I'll learn something, like how to protect myself. That'd be useful. They can't be_ all _bad, right?_

Zarissis closed her eyes, slipping into a deep sleep for a few more hours before she'd waken at dusk to begin her journey.


	3. Taking Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarissis has a plan, but it may not go over as intended.

The next evening, rain had begun to drizzle over the land and drip down the leaves of trees. Zarissis pulled her travelling cloak tighter over her figure as she clutched the reins of the stolen horse. She was lucky her father taught her how to ride; otherwise she might have since fallen off the galloping steed.

The horse was male, with a dusky gray body covered in flecks of black over its belly and legs. He seemed overjoyed to finally be able to run free. Perhaps the horse felt as she did; trapped in a boring life and not living up to its fullest. He did not fight her at all when she tried to steal him, instead choosing to follow loyally behind her. After a half an hour on the road and some contemplation, Zarissis settled on naming him Dusty.

Before she left the inn, she decided to buy some food. Much to her surprise, her coin purse was overflowing with septims that were not there before, as well as a filled waterskin. No doubt Lucien had put them there. A new dagger, a purse full of septims, a loyal steed, and enough food and water for the trip. Zarissis was better off than she had been before she'd met Lucien Lachance, and a deep appreciation was growing in her heart. She would have to thank him the next time she saw them, and at this point, she was fairly certain she could kill again easily.

With the wind howling and rain pattering on the ground around her, Zarissis felt freer than she had in the past twenty years. If bandits attacked, something deep inside her mind told her she'd be alright.

* * *

After several stops along the road, sure enough Zarissis faced the danger she knew would accompany her adventure. The man had snuck up behind her, attempting to put a dagger to her throat, but Zarissis whipped around in time, drawing her weapon by some kind of unknown instinct and jamming into his chest with a speed she was unaware she had.

Then came his two friends, who the redhead wrestled away from. The first found a dagger between his shoulder blades as he lunged to grab her, and the second with a blade in his neck.

Zarissis didn't know that she was capable of taking on three full-grown men. She could only guess that some unknown force had aided her because she'd never been in a fight, let alone in the middle of night with a group of people who had twice her strength. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline.

Either way, Zarissis soon realized that chest wounds bled _a lot_ less than a throat wound. The gouge in the bandit's neck squirted blood over her hands and sleeves, and down the front of her dress. It was quite the predicament; anyone who saw her might guess she killed someone, and she didn't have another dress. Luckily her travelling cloak remained unscathed so she had some way to cover up.

Pulling her cloak around her figure, Zarissis calmed her spooked horse before finally embarking again on her journey.

* * *

The rest of the trip had been peaceful and undisturbed. Zarissis had only been out of Leyawiin with her parents for merchant business, but Bravil was just as poor and rickety as ever, retaining its reputation for having a high crime rate and being the city with the highest number of Skooma addicts as residents. Needless to say, Zarissis did not sleep well at the inn that night. Every little bump and noise in the night spooked her from her sleep. Each time she checked her bag to ensure her belongings remain. Certainly Lucien Lachance would think her a fool if all of his gifts were stolen from her the very night after he came to her. Luckily, her possessions remained, and Zarissis was able to buy a cheap dress before she left the city. It was a bright, minty green and made her look like a child, but it was better than parading around in dried blood.

Zarissis arrived at the Inn of Ill Omen just past midnight. The moon was still high in the sky, and everything seemed quiet. With a deep breath, Zarissis climbed the creaky stairs and pushed open the door to the inn.

She was surprised to find a man at the counter with a cloth in hand, drying mugs. He looked up as she entered, excitement spreading across his face. "Why hello there, if it isn't a new customer! Don't see too many of those 'round here."

The inside of the inn was in just as much disrepair as the outside. The wood on the furniture was old, and the chairs at the counter looked as though they'd collapse if someone attempted to sit in them. A bowl sat on the edge of the table, half-filled with water, and gaps in the boards could be seen in the walls. It was likely that the ceiling leaked when it rained.

Either way, Zarissis was here on a mission, and she wasn't turning back now.

"I can't imagine getting a lot of business with a name like 'Ill Omen'," she replied honestly as she approached the counter.

He sighed. "It's a horrible name for an inn, I know, but I just can't bring myself to change it. Besides, I like the sign." The man placed the mug on the table and tossed the rag beside it, brushing off his hands. "I'm Manhaim. We got plenty of rooms if you want one. Ain't nobody here except old Rufio."

_So he is here then._ Zarissis didn't want to draw suspicion to herself by asking about him, but she wanted to know what room he was in. Lockpicking wasn't her specialty, and she needed to know what room the old codger was in. _Perhaps I needn't ask…_

Zarissis thought back to her experiences with Tristeran. The foolish boy would tell her anything under the influence of alcohol. She turned to Manhaim and began unbraiding her hair, running her fingers through the soft orange waves.

"A room would be lovely." With a flirtatious smile, she added, "Also a drink. Whatever is _your_ favourite."

The man's face turned bright red. "M-my favourite? Well, that'd be twelve septims…" Zarissis saw him hesitate, until she reached into her coin purse and pulled out the gold. He reached for a mug and set it in front of her before popping open a bottle of mead and pouring the thick liquid. Corking the bottle, Zarissis watched it as his eyes ran over her figure.

"Oh no, the drink isn't for me. It's for you, since I can imagine you work really hard to keep this inn running." She smiled and pushed the mug toward him. "I always admire such hard work."

Manhaim's face flushed again, and he fumbled with the mug. "Oh, well, uh, thank you." He lifted it to his mouth and took a drink, never taking his eyes off of Zarissis. After swallowing, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Say, you never told me your name."

Zarissis knew she couldn't tell him her real name. She was probably already wanted for murder in Leyawiin; having another murder tied to her name wouldn't be a good idea. Thinking quickly, she was reminded of a character in one of her favourite books, _The Wolf Queen_. Manhaim didn't look like the kind of man who would read, so hopefully the reference would pass him.

"I'm Jyllia. I'm _very_ pleased to make your acquaintance." Zarissis flashed him a brazen smile and twirled her finger in her hair again. "Now Manhaim, I have all night. Please _do_ tell me more about yourself."

* * *

_Another kill, another dead family member._ Pure rage boiled in his veins and Vicente tightened his hand until he nearly broke the quill he was holding. Whoever this traitor was, he wanted them to pay.

This time it was a member of the Bruma Sanctuary, a Dunmer named Sathden. He was a master in poison brewing, even better than Lucien, although the Speaker would never admit that. Lucien had received a contract that called for a person to be poisoned in a very specific way, and Sathden was the one who had the skills to make it happen.

He never made it to finish his contract. Two days later, Sathden was discovered dead on the road a few miles west of Cheydinhal, poisoned through an arrow shot into his leg. His skin looked as though it had boiled, and all of the veins in his body had darkened considerably, giving his corpse a ghastly look. Even Vicente felt the urge to vomit when seeing the state of the Dunmer.

Lucien didn't know what kind of poison had the ability to kill someone in such a way, and that made Vicente nervous. There were very few people that Vicente had met who had the same knowledge of poisons as Lucien. He suspected some form of dark magic had been used, but had no way to support his suspicion.

Vicente sighed and cupped his face in his hands. Two deaths, both linking back to Cheydinhal. He knew none of the members of his sanctuary had the skills to pull off both assassinations, but the rest of the Black Hand wouldn't see that.

If the murders continued, then Vicente feared that he'd have to begin worrying about the fate of the Cheydinhal sanctuary.

* * *

After buying Manhaim more than several mugs of mead over the next couple of hours, Zarissis began to feel kind of dirty. She had never intentionally manipulated someone for information, and this newfound side of her personality was frightening. She realized she had no problem with pulling the hem of her dress down _just a bit_ to reveal the slightest cleavage, and batting her eyes seductively at Manhaim seemed almost a nature instinct.

Either way, it worked. All she had to do was nod her head appropriately and encourage his friendly nature, and she had learned exactly where Rufio's room was. The best part was that she had time to think of a plan in the meantime, and Zarissis was certain it'd help her remain innocent.

Manhaim now sat at the counter silent, while he fought back sleep, his eyes drooping without his control. Zarissis stood up, feeling refreshed and energized as adrenaline rushed through her veins. The game was on, and with any luck it'd go off without a hitch, and hopefully Manhaim had consumed enough alcohol that he wouldn't remember the day's events.

"Here, let me help you to your bed." Zarissis put one arm around the man and carefully led him up the stairs. After several inquiries from Zarissis, she was able to figure out which room was his, and lead him to the bed. The next part of her plan was the tricky one – she needed to get him completely undressed, but in his present stupor, she felt it'd be quite difficult. Not to mention that Zarissis had never even seen a man naked, and the thought of what she'd find terrified her, but it was a fear she'd have to face.

Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, she sweetly whispered false praises and sweet nothings, allowing Manhaim to remain completely relax and merely grin in a silly manner at her. Zarissis was surprised to see several rows of scars running down his chest, as though he'd had a bad accident. She ran her fingers over the white marks and leaned in, kissing the man on the lips. It felt surprisingly less invasive than when Tristeran kissed her, but she supposed it was because of her intentions.

A few minutes later and Zarissis was able to unlace the man's pants and pull them off, followed by his loincloth.

_Oh_. She didn't know what she expected. It wasn't like she thought men had a monster, like a cliffracer, beneath their loincloths, but it seemed to be very disappointing and she never knew why girls sat in corners and whispered over which men in the town were more endowed.

Manhaim did not complain at all about having his clothes removed, but he was in such a trance that he didn't particularly respond to it, either. Zarissis held his head as she helped him ease into bed and pulled the covers over him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, the man closed his eyes and didn't move.

_Perhaps I gave him too much wine_ ,she fretted. Well, at least if she _did_ kill him, it'd be one last witness to the crime. Although she knew Lucien wouldn't be too pleased. Killing more than just her target would be sloppy, and would draw unnecessary attention.

With part one of her plan in action, Zarissis headed back down the stairs and opened the hatch to the 'private quarters', as Manhaim had put it. Luckily, she still had a couple more hours of night available, so the old man would still be sleeping. Creeping down the ladder, she approached the door and used a key she got off Manhaim to unlock the door.

The door creaked open slowly, and carefully Zarissis crept in. In a bed at the far end of the room, a figure laid curled up. Careful not to step too hard on any creaky floorboards, the redhead snuck over to the edge of his bed.

Rufio looked as though he'd once been quite muscular, but now all that was left was a frail shell. His sleep was troubled, and every now and then he'd whimper as if having a bad dream. Zarissis reached into her bra band, where her dagger was presently stashed, and pulled it from its sheath. Gripping it tightly in her fist, she gently nudged the old man onto his back. He didn't wake, merely shuddering again.

With a firm blow, Zarissis struck the dagger into his chest. Rufio's eyes flew open for a split second, staring her in the face, before his heart stopped. She watched as the life drained from his body and his muscles went limp before extracting the dagger, wiping it on his bedsheets. A red stain blossomed over his tunic, like a flower opening its petals. It fascinated her, but Zarissis didn't want to linger anymore than necessary. Sheathing her dagger, she left the room, relocking the door before she left, and headed back up the hatch to the room she rented.

Manhaim would likely be asleep for quite a while, which gave her just enough time to catch a few hours of sleep before Lucien came to check on her, if the Speaker wasn't already watching. If he was, then she hoped he'd have the decency to wake her up before the innkeeper, so she could finish the last part of her plan.

Undressing down to her smallclothes, Zarissis wiggled into the bedroll on the floor and snuggled her head into the musky pillow, exhaustion slowly overtaking her.

* * *

"You know, you do sleep quite soundly for a murderer. I'm pleasantly surprised." A familiar voice drifted through the fog of Zarissis's dreams, coming from the floor near her bed roll. "I've tried several times to rouse you from sleep. Normally my fellow Brothers and Sisters respond a lot quicker to the call of their Speaker."

Zarissis peaked an eye open, her gaze settling on the crosslegged Imperial who sat with his back to the wall. He held her dagger in his hand, running his finger over the blade in a way that Zarissis might describe as _lovingly_.

"The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink." He took the Blade of Woe and slid it into the sheath, before placing it back into her bag. "I am quite pleased with your work, and believe it is time for you to embrace your fate."

Lucien Lachance looked directly at her now, his dark eyes scanning her face. "As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given."

Zarissis sat up, more alert to the conversation. "Now what?"

"Now you must go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly, 'Sanguine, my Brother'. You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva." Lucien stood to his feet with all the grace of a Khajiit, looking down on the little redhead. "We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following... your progress. Welcome to the family."

Before he was about to cast whatever invisibility spell he used last time, the Speaker paused, and his eyes darted over the nearly-nude figure of the girl before him, settling on her bra band before darting up to her face. Zarissis felt her cheeks burn red with shame and pulled the bedroll closer to her chest, silently cursing herself again for forgetting her nightgown.

Lucien merely laughed. "Before I go, I feel perhaps somewhat _obligated_ to inform you that Manhaim still sleeps. If I were any less of a man, I'd say I feel nearly _jealous_ that an old fool will be graced to see you in such a…state." With a wicked smirk, his figure faded again from view, and Zarissis glared at his shimmery, translucent form as it snuck from the room.

His last comment left her a little flabbergasted. She didn't know how to respond, or even how Lucien guessed her plan. On one hand, his comment was a compliment, but bordered too closely toward being creepy. She knew very little about the Speaker, except that he gave her enough supplies to make it on her journey, something she was grateful for.

_And I forgot to thank him_. She'd have to eventually do so later, once she made it to Cheydinhal.

Zarissis packed up her satchel and threw it over her shoulder before lifting her dress off the ground. She wouldn't put it on, not yet. Treading over to the door, she carefully opened it and peeked out. Seeing no one in the hallway, the redhead darted over to Manhaim's room, carefully turning the knob and peeking in.

The man laid on his back on the bed, his mouth open as he snored. He was still fast asleep, just as Lucien said.

Zarissis carefully placed her stuff on the ground and dropped her dress on the floor, carelessly pushing it with her foot to make it seem as though it'd been torn off in the throes of passion.

Her plan originally called for her removing her smallclothes to seem as though she had slept with the fool, but Zarissis hesitated. It seemed far too embarrassing and revealing for her to do, and after Lucien's comment, she was more than self-aware of her body.

She silently cursed him. Before seeing the Speaker, she'd felt confident with her plan, but now she was too terrified to finish it. She angrily scooped her dress off the floor and pulled it over her head before she gently picked up her satchel and snuck out of the room, casting one last glance on the sleeping figure.

Biting her lip hard, Zarissis tried her best to think of a new plan, but drew only blanks. She had one last option, and that was to run. If Old Lady Luck smiled on her again, Manhaim would wake with no memory of any new patron entering the inn.

Throwing her bag over her shoulder, Zarissis made her way down the stairs. To her surprise, an Imperial guard sat at the counter, drinking a leftover bottle of mead from the night before. He nodded as she entered the room, but said nothing, seemingly ignorant of the rotting corpse in the quarters beneath his feet.

Zarissis merely smiled and left the inn, returning to Dusty who'd been tied up to a fence post over night. The horse whinnied happily as she approached. She opened her bag and pulled out an apple, to which the horse greedily snatched from her hand.

She stroked his muzzle as he chewed, and thought about Cheydinhal. She'd been there only once, and she remembered it to be quite the beautiful place, but she was not sure exactly what to expect when she met her new 'family'. If they were all killers, would they even be that friendly?

_I'm friendly_ , she reminded herself. It was still odd to think of herself as a murderer, and even stranger to tell herself that she was an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. With a long sigh, she untied Dusty and pulled herself into the horse's saddle.

"Well now, I suppose it is time for both of us to set off for Cheydinhal," she whispered as she patted the horse's side. "My fate awaits me."


	4. The Nature of Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarissis meets her new family...

Zarissis and Dusty arrived in Cheydinhal two days later, both quite exhausted. The sun was far below the horizon, and most of the residents of the city were tucked up in their beds. Leaving Dusty at the stable, Zarissis entered the western gate.

Even in the dark, the city of Cheydinhal was beautiful. Lush, dark green trees that shook and rustled in the wind, shops with delicately painted signs and beckoning window settings, even ornate street lamps that casted a dim orange glow across the buildings. The cobblestone path was lined with beautiful, fancy homes, very different from the ones in Leyawiin. To the redhead, it was the city of kings. She couldn't imagine anyone living in such luxury.

Zarissis continued walking down the street, admiring the grandness of the buildings in the lamplight. Even the river that ran through the city was beautiful, despite the dark trickling water. Treading over the bridge, Zarissis passed by the Temple of Arkay, which towered overhead as a symbol of the Divines. She admired the stone columns and engravings, walking around the Temple to gaze in awe. Even the graveyard outside was beckoning, with rich, cold marble headstones and brightly colored flowers.

It was then that her eyes set upon something not-so-beautiful, oddly dark even in the moon and lamp light. The boarded up windows and doors of the abandoned house seemed so opposite of the rest of the city, yet an air of mystery surrounded the building. Guards had been seen all over Cheydinhal, yet Zarissis didn't see a single guard in sight.

Lucien's words echoed in her mind.  _Now you must go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question._

Approaching the strange building, Zarissis felt a chill run down her spine, and clutched her cloak and satchel tighter to her person. She noticed that although the door to the abandoned house was boarded over, it did not prevent the door from being open; merely gave it the appearance of being closed off.

Reaching out and grasping the handle, Zarissis was shocked to see that the door slid easily open, almost as though some supernatural force were beckoning her further. The chill increased dramatically, sending goosebumps over the girl's arms.

The inside was empty, save for some broken furniture and cobwebs. At the back of the room was an old door that Zarissis supposed must go to the basement. Stepping through the dust, she carefully opened the door.

The basement was just as barren, with a few smashed crates. However, Zarissis's attention was immediately drawn to a hole that'd been smashed through the wall, leading to a tunnel. Treading through the mess, Zarissis crossed the threshold into the corridor.

A sickly red glow emanated down the tunnel, and after a few steps around a curve, the door Lucien spoke of came into view.

Although Zarissis hadn't been afraid entering the abandoned house, she suddenly felt struck with fear at the sight of the Black Door. The red glow came from a handprint on the forehead of a large skull carved into the door, and underneath it an engraving of what Zarissis could only assume was the Night Mother that Lucien spoke of, followed by five smaller figures raising their hands in respect.

Compared to the size of the door, Zarissis suddenly felt very small and insignificant. It wasn't the door itself that terrified her – it was the aura that surrounded the door. From everything she'd read about Sithis in the books of Gods and Daedra, it felt as though she'd just stepped straight into the Void. It was incredibly intimidating, and the redhead couldn't imagine why Lucien had asked someone like herself to come there.

She was just considering turning away when a deep, raspy voice echoed in her mind.

" _What…is the color…of the night?_  "

She felt glued to the spot, unable to move. Zarissis closed her eyes and reached back into her mind, recalling Lucien's directions.

"Sanguine, my Brother."

She was surprised the words sounded so confident, so  _effortless_. Certainly, she had expected her voice to crack and fail her.

" _Welcome home."_

As soon as the words had radiated from the door, Zarissis felt a sudden and unexpected warmth and comfort surround her. The door slowly eased open, and an orange glow trickled out of the tunnel behind it. Slowly, Zarissis stepped forward, and the door closed behind her.

She had sort of been expecting a dungeon, and while the sanctuary was underground, it was anything but cold. Pleasant heat greeted her skin and Zarissis could see rugs and hanging lights systematically spread over the main room.

Feeling a little more at ease, the redhead stepped into the hall. Immediately she noticed an Argonian standing nearby, who looked up at her entrance.

"Oh, you must be Zarissis! Greetings, greetings! I am Ocheeva, mistress of this sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you." She smiles, which is not overly reassuring, due to her many rows of sharp teeth, but Zarissis smiles politely back.

Ocheeva was a beautiful Argonian, Zarissis determined, with the most unique scale coloring she'd ever seen. Orange, purple and green scales combined together in an exotic mixture, coupled with her orange eyes.

"Let me be the first to welcome you. The Night Mother is pleased another Daughter has joined our ranks. Welcome to the Sanctuary, may it serve as a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. Would you like me to show you around?" She offered an arm to the redhead, who hesitated before conceding. The Argonian certainly didn't act like a murderer. She was kind and sweet, and seemed so friendly.

Ocheeva lead Zarissis to the right of the hall, and the girl took the opportunity to look around. A couple of people near the doors they were headed towards stopped their conversation and turned to look. One of them was a blonde with bouncy, shoulder-length curls. Immediately, she pranced toward them, and emitted what Zarissis could only describe as the most ear-piercing squeal she'd ever had the discomfort of hearing.

Before she even spoke, the girl swept Zarissis away from Ocheeva in a tight hug.

"A new family member, so exciting! So you're Zarissis? Can I just call you Zaris? Oh, that would make me so happy! We could become best friends, like sisters! I haven't had someone like that – oh well, there's Tel, but she can be pretty unfriendly. And Ocheeva is always busy. Oh, isn't this exciting?" Her words came so quickly, Zarissis didn't even get a chance to respond. Instead the red-head stood looking lost for words while the bouncy girl fawned all over her.

"Antoinetta, don't overwhelm her. There will be plenty of time to bug her, but for now she needs to adjust to being in this crazy place!" The second figure Zarissis saw near the door had come up from behind Antoinetta. He was probably the largest Orc that Zarissis had ever seen – the man likely had enough strength to bend metal bars. To make matters more intense, he positively  _towered_  over Zarissis, although she had to admit she was pretty short already.

He laughed boisterously. "Welcome to the family! I'd hug you, but Ocheeva told me not to. I'm Gogron gro-Bolmag." Zarissis noticed that he was wearing a set of black plate armor that was the darkest shade of black she'd ever seen, unlike Ocheeva and Antoinetta who were both wearing some form of leather armor.

"See, you're already making friends!" Ocheeva piped up happily, before turning to face the odd duo. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to finish the grand tour. Our newest recruit needs to know where to sleep at the very least."

Antoinetta waved happily at Zarissis as Ocheeva dragged her through the large stone doors and through a short hallway before entering a room that Zarissis realized was adorned with similar draperies and fabrics as the main hall, although covering more surfaces and hanging from the walls. Four beds were lined up, all but one of them covered in different assortments of pillows and blankets, and at the foot of each bed was a chest.

The first one was perhaps the gaudiest, and it didn't take Zarissis too long to assume whose bed it might have been. Three large, fluffy white pillows were tossed on it carelessly, with pale blue sheets and a lacy white quilt. It seemed quite girly, and Zarissis thought it matched the personality of the bubbly Antoinetta quite well.

The bed next to that one seemed rather simple. A plant sat on the bedside table, and a light brown quilt embroidered with rich forest scenes of trees and forests was laid very neatly over the bed.

The third bed was adorned with blacks and purples. Pillows were laid neatly against the headboard and the lavender blankets were folded neatly on the foot of the bed, but it seemed as though it had not been used in quite some time.

The final bed seemed the plainest. A single pillow, sheet, and think blanket adorned the bed, all in dark shades of red. It did not appear to have been slept in.

Pulling Zarissis along, Ocheeva lead her over to the last bed in the corner. "This is the women's living quarters, men sleep across the hall to give us privacy. Each bed chamber has its own washroom connected to it; ours is that door right there." She nodded to the door that was fairly close to where they were standing, a few feet away from the bed Zarissis would be sleeping in. "Inside you'll also find lockers to keep your armor in if you don't want to place it in the chest at the foot of your bed, which is this one here. The chest can be locked though, so I wouldn't worry about that. Nobody in the sanctuary would try to steal from you, unless they want Lucien Lachance to deal with."

Zarissis wrinkled her nose, confused. "Why would Lucien care if someone stole from me?" The man had never shown much emotion to her before, apart from his comment upon departure the last time she saw him. Aside from that, he seemed like a fairly normal mass murderer.

Ocheeva shook her head. "Oh, no dear. It's a Tenet. The Dark Brotherhood has its own set of rules in the form of the Five Tenets. Tenet 1: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 2: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 3: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 4: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 5: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Follow these rules and you'll be fine…break them, and you'll have to answer to Lucien Lachance. The last time someone broke a Tenet…it was not pretty." Ocheeva grimaced, clearly recalling a bad memory.

"So is Lucien the Wrath of Sithis then?" Zarissis asked, confused, as she took her satchel of belongings off her shoulder and dropped it onto the bed. She'd put her things away later.

"No. When a Tenet is broken, a high ranking member may choose to distribute punishment in the way they choose. If they choose not to,  _then_  the Wrath of Sithis will come for you in your sleep." Ocheeva shuddered before taking Zarissis's arm. "Anyway, let me finish the rest of the tour and then you'll be off on your first assignment."

Zarissis wasn't sure if that meant she'd be killing someone, but she never got a chance to contemplate as she was speedily pulled out of the living commons and across the main hall into another large room. This one was equipped for training, with archery targets and dummies for battling. Weapon racks lined the walls, and in the center of the room a hooded figure continuously shot arrows into the center of a target. It seemed to Zarissis that she was either intentionally trying to see how many arrows she could fit into the red bull's eye of the mark, or she was showing off her skills. Either way, the redhead found herself impressed.

After shooting off one more arrow, the incredible archer turned around to face Zarissis. She was a Bosmer, with soft brown hair that fell over her shoulders, visible despite the hood. Unlike Antoinetta, she didn't go for a hug. Instead, she greeted Zarissis with a polite bow.

"Hello Zarissis, warmest welcomes to you. I am Telaendril, loyal daughter of Sithis. I hope you find our Sanctuary to your liking." She seemed to look at Zarissis with an analytical stare, as though she was attempting to determine what sort of person the girl was.

 _This must be the 'Tel' that Antoinetta was referring to,_  Zarissis recalled absentmindedly.

"Hi," Zarissis said shyly, realizing this was the first time she had spoken to one of her family members beside Ocheeva. With Antoinetta and Gogron, she never got the chance; now she felt shy and her mind drew a blank.

Tel seemed to sense her timidness. "Oh, don't feel too self-conscious. We were all new at one point!" She patted Zarissis on the arm, seemingly unwilling to commit herself to any further form of affection.

After Ocheeva introduced the room as the training room – which was quite obvious, Zarissis thought – she drug her through yet another door and into a kitchen and mess hall.

"And here's the kitchen and place we eat…" Ocheeva began, her voice trailing off as the two settled their eyes on a Khajiit and another Argonian, deep in a heated argument.

"I did  _not_  take your cat nip! What good do I have for it? I'm not an  _oversized cat!"_  The Argonian scowled angrily and bared teeth, his green and orange face menacing.

The Khajiit howled back. "You were the last person in here, and I left it on the counter, you filthy-smelling scaled ape!"

Ocheeva cleared her throat and put one hand on her hip. The pair turned around at the sound of her voice and immediately began shouting and pointing at each other.

" _He_  took my catnip and – " - "For the last time, I did not take your catnip!" - "I left it here on the counter – " - "What am I going to do with it,  _snort_  it?"

Ocheeva interrupted, her voice ringing loud above them. "Enough! This is a conversation for another time. You're going to give a bad impression to our newest recruit by acting like animals!"

Only then did they notice Zarissis standing next to her. The Argonian mumbled an apology, while the Khajiit only scowled.

"I don't care who you are or why you're here. Let's get one thing straight - the Tenets prevent me from killing you. But I don't have to like you. I'll sell you equipment, but only because Ocheeva is making me. This family doesn't need any... outsiders." With that, the Khajiit spat on the floor near Zarissis's feet and stormed out, his fur fuzzed out.

After his exit, Ocheeva merely shook her head. "That's M'raaj Dar. Don't worry, he takes a while to warm up to new members. Just don't take anything he says to heart." Placing a hand on Zarissis's back and pushing her forward, Ocheeva turned to the Argonian before her. "Zarissis, this is my brother, Teinaava. Teinaava, this is Zarissis."

The redhead noticed then how similar the two looked. The one difference was that Ocheeva had shades of purple and lavender among her orange and green scales, while Teinaava's scales were harsher oranges and greens.

"I'm really sorry you had to see that," he apologized, taking Zarissis's hand in his. Rather than the warmth she was used to from the human races, his grasp was cool to the touch. "I welcome you to our family, and this Sanctuary. May you find yourself at home here, in the loving embrace of our Lady the Night Mother."

Zarissis made a mental note to read more and become more educated about the Night Mother and Sithis. Although she knew some, the two figures seemed very dear to everyone within the Sanctuary, and if she was going to fit in she needed to be more knowledgeable.

Ocheeva turned back to Zarissis. "There's one last place I need to take you and then you're free to go. Oh, and I almost forgot – your new Dark Family offers a gift. A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void. You will find it within your personal chest."

Zarissis nodded in response and the Argonian led her back into the main room and toward the back, near the entrance of a hallway that looked suspiciously like a tunnel.

"Down this hall you will meet the last member of our family, Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new members. Speak to him when you're ready to work." She smiled and hugged Zarissis before walking off in the direction of the training room.

Zarissis's mind erupted into chaos.  _Vicente?_  That was the name of her hero! But it couldn't be…could it? Surely he wasn't an assassin? Surely she wouldn't find him  _here?_

For more than the first time that day, she was filled with a dread, but this time not relating to terror. Instead, anxiety flooded her stomach. What if he wasn't her hero? What if he was? What would she do, what could she ever  _say?_

Taking a deep breath, she began the descent, following the hall as it gradually went downhill, until she rounded a corner. An ancient wood door stood before her, a knocker on the outside. Zarissis tried to calm her raging nerves, taking a deep breath, before knocking twice.

From inside the chamber, an unmistakable High Rock accent echoed back. "Come in!"

She turned the knob and slowly swung the door open, stepping into the chamber. A man sat at a table in the center of the room, a book spread out before them. He looked up as Zarissis entered.

A pin would have been heard rolling over the stone floor for how quiet the room became. A contest could almost have been held for who looked the most shocked.

Zarissis was faced with a person unlike any she had ever seen. His eyes were a bright, crimson red and the skin on his face was stretched tightly over his bones, leaving his expression very gaunt. Prominently, however, Zarissis noticed the two fangs that extended from his mouth, which was presently open in an awed gaze of surprise.

She had only ever read about vampires, and her mind could hardly grasp it, yet she was certain that the creature before her was a vampire.

After a long pause, the vampire's mouth turned into a wide smile. "Well now, of all things I expected, I never would have guessed seeing my little songbird before me! And as an assassin, no less. I don't think I've been this excited in years!" He stood up quickly, which made Zarissis whimper and jump back. He was easily nearly two heads taller than her, which didn't help her position at all.

She never thought she'd be faced with an actual vampire in the flesh. Her mother said they didn't exist, but she always had a hunch they did. The idea of an immortal, elusive creature like a vampire was charming to her, however actually being faced with one was a different story. And he wasn't  _just_  a vampire, he was her  _hero_ , the man she'd daydreamed about after saving her.

Immediately realizing his mistake in moving so fast, the vampire raised his hands slowly in a non-offensive position. "Please do not let my appearance...unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire." He paused, and after seeing that Zarissis remained unmoving, sighed deeply. "Please don't be alarmed, little lark. I will not hurt you." Very carefully, he bent down so he was shorter than the girl before him, and reached out a gentle hand.

Zarissis eyed the gesture for a moment before allowing her hand to slip into his. His hand was slightly cool, but not uncomfortably so. He did not say a word for a moment, simply gazing at her and running his fingers over the top of her hand in a soft, comforting manner. Finally, he grasped her hand in both of his. "Let's start over, shall we? I am Vicente Valtieri, and you are Zarissis?"

The redhead relaxed a bit and nodded, her curiosity taking over. As a vampire, that would certainly explain how he managed to easily break the neck of the man who assaulted her. "Why did you save me?"

Vicente blinked. "Why not? Am I supposed to be a monster, devoid of human compassion?" He sighed, shaking his head. "There are many of my kind who are beasts, but I have worked to overcome that nature. I value what is left of my humanity."

He seemed to speak the truth; after all, he had shown an incredible civilized attitude toward Zarissis the whole time. In fact, now that her fear was mostly wearing off, Zarissis was incredibly curious about the man. "Is it true vampires have advanced hearing?"

Vicente smiled, as though amused by the girl's sudden curiosity. "Quite true."

Zarissis bit her lip, excitement finally rising within her as she fully realized that she had met an  _actual_ vampire and lived to tell about it! She couldn't help it; she wanted to know absolutely everything about his nature. "And what all can you hear?"

Vicente's eyes settled on her mouth as she sucked her lip in, lingering for a moment before returning to her eyes. "Occasionally I can hear laughter from the main hall, where Telaendril seems to be teasing Gogron. Anytime Antoinetta squeals, as well. Luckily, my bedchamber is out of the way of most noise, so I can sleep in peace." He gazed at Zarissis in a thoughtful manner. "I can also hear the exact rhythm of your heartbeat." He turned over her hand and tapped her pulse into the center of her palm with a finger.

Had she not been calming down, Zarissis may have found herself a little uneasy with Vicente's demonstration. Instead, she was filled with awe. Without thinking, her question fell from her lips. "Could I be a vampire?"

Not for the first time that day, there was a deep silence between them. Vicente merely tipped his head to the side and looked at her in an odd, calculating manner. Finally after many moments, he spoke again. "Perhaps if you prove yourself worthy to the Dark Brotherhood and to me I will choose to pass along my Dark Gift to you."

Her heart exploded in an orchestra of irregular beating, a reaction she was now painfully aware of. "Really?"

Vicente became more serious, gazing at her with an expression Zarissis could not read. "I do not make idle promises, dearest Sister. Anyhow, now that we are officially reacquainted, perhaps we should talk about contracts and celebrate your entrance into the Dark Brotherhood, hmm?" The vampire stood up again, reminding Zarissis of how painfully short she was, and stepped over to a cupboard near the table. "Tell me, are you partial to wine?"

Zarissis blinked. "I can't say I've ever actually had wine…" She had been offered it, of course, but always by Tristeran who likely had hoped to get her drunk, and even then it was the cheapest stuff you could buy. Living in Leyawiin didn't exactly promise good alcohol unless you were a nobleman or from a rich family.

"Ahhh," Vicente hummed, carefully picking through the bottles in the cupboard and selecting one. "Then I know exactly what we shall drink."

He pulled out two goblets and put them down at the table, ushering Zarissis to sit down before popping the cork on the bottle. "Surilie Brothers Vintage 382; the older, the sweeter. I've hoarded this bottle for many years and have never had a good excuse to drink it until now." He smiled brilliantly at the redhead before pouring the wine and taking a seat across from her. He took a drink from his own goblet before turning his attention to her.

Zarissis hesitantly reached forward and lifted the goblet, pressing it to her lips. The thick liquid trickled onto her tongue, tasting heavy and far more sugary than she was expecting. Swallowing, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "That's really quite sweet." She lifted the goblet to her mouth again, taking another drink with a little more greed.

"I always have had a sweet tooth, I'm afraid. Although," he replied, grinning, "It seems so do you."

"Oh…" Zarissis looked down to see her chalice nearly empty. As she did, she felt her cheeks begin to grow quite warm, the heat spreading down her neck and chest. She wasn't embarrassed or upset, so she supposed it was the effects of the wine, which was beginning to make her head tingle a bit.

Feeling considerably more relaxed, Zarissis finished off the wine left in her goblet before changing the subject. "So…what exactly is a contract?"

Vicente launched into his explanation of contracts within the Dark Brotherhood and the rewards and bonuses for them, as well as how assassins were expected to carry out their orders. All the meanwhile, Zarissis merely nodded and continued to aggressively drink her wine, goblet after goblet, while Vicente filled it up each time it was empty.

She didn't really hear too much of what he told her; mostly her eyes were focused on the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the way his fangs bore on the soft vowels of his language. She was aware that he knew she was watching him; although he said nothing of it. Instead he indulged all of her questions and spoke of a time very long ago when he was a young boy in High Rock.

In turn she told him of her life, from the aggressive anger of her mother to her unconventional birth. There were times she found herself gasping for breath through her stories, her voice rambling at a nearly unnatural speed. Vicente didn't seem to notice, though. He merely rested his head on a hand and watched her carefully.

More than once she asked for more wine and he'd fill it graciously, a small apology slipping from his lips each time as though he bore her newly acquired bad habit as his own. As the night wore on, he covered her hand with his and delicately removed the glass from her fingers.

"I think that's  _quite_  enough."

He murmured this with a grin and she felt herself drawn to him not for the first time.  _He's a vampire_ , she reminded herself, but each time her thoughts slipped away into the abyss of her drunken mind. At last she found herself out of topics, and Vicente had long gone quiet. The vampire reclined in his chair and gazed at the door, although his eyes were occasionally drawn back to her.

At some point she felt her eyelids slipping closed and then the light pressure of being lifted from her seat. The last thing she could recall was the dim glow of red eyes as he pulled the sheets up to her chin, resting a cool hand on her forehead.


	5. Apologies and Developments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zarissis gets to know one of her family members.

Zarissis woke up from what smelled like a rotting animal carcass. It took her a minute to realize that the scent was not coming from something next to her but was the result of her drunken expedition the night before. She slowly opened her eyes and immediately regretted it as she was hit by an agonizing burst of white pain to her head, making her clutch at her eyes and moan into the pillow.

 _That's right_. Vicente offered her a drink, and she accepted one…and then another, followed by another four… Although from what Zarissis could remember, their conversation seemed rather pleasant. Still, Vicente probably thought her a fool. She'd have to go and apologize once she managed to get up.

With a whimper, the redhead pushed herself into a sitting position before cupping her head in her hands, rocking back and forth slightly as the pounding in her head roared. She was still in her green dress, and she felt very thankful that Vicente hadn't tried to change her into nightclothes. Then again, after several centuries she was sure he learned a thing or two about being a gentleman.

Once the aching dulled down, Zarissis was able to open her eyes and look around. The living quarter was empty, everyone else already having gotten up to begin their day. Zarissis pulled herself to her chest and popped it open. Her satchel had been placed neatly inside on top of the Dark Brotherhood armor. She reached in and pulled out the leathers, placing them on her bed, before pulling her dagger from her satchel.

Closing the chest and turning back to the bed, Zarissis pulled off her dress and began to put on her armor. It took her quite a while to figure out how to put everything on correctly, but as she slipped different sections of the leathers on, she noticed they were enchanted to change shape to fit her body. Once she was dressed, Zarissis slipped the sheath of her dagger onto the belt on her waist before walking into the main hall.

Everything was eerily quiet. The only family member in sight was Ocheeva, who sat in a large armchair reading. As Zarissis approached, she saw that the book was entitled  _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. She had heard of the book, of course, but had never taken an opportunity to read it. Her mother had forbidden such reading material. Books about blood and gore she would occasionally tolerate, but anything racy and the woman would have beaten her deaf. Not that it mattered, anyway; Zarissis didn't imagine that there'd be any romance or sex in her future. She was here for business, and her own personal pursuit of freedom.

Ocheeva looked up as she approached. "Oh good, you're awake! You spent a long time in Vicente's room last night." It was the kind of statement that suggested more than something innocent, like when her mom would come into her room in the morning and tell her she stayed up too late, in a suspicious manner, as though Zarissis had done something wrong by it.

"We just sat and talked, that was all. I lost track of the time." It was mostly true, aside from her unexpected drinking binge. She thought it was best not to mention that.

Ocheeva merely nodded, her suspicion cast aside. "Very well. I'm glad to hear you're settling in with the other family members. Also, Lucien Lachance will be returning later and desires to speak with you."

"Do you know where everyone is? And what time it is?"

"It is currently dusk. You were up most of the night and slept through the day. As for our family, most of them were assigned contracts. We seemed to have had a dry spell lately and haven't had many children praying to the Night Mother, but Lucien returned this morning with work. Some contracts involved long travelling, so they left a bit earlier." She paused, thinking. "I believe that Gogron may return in a few hours. He's usually very quick, but he does prefer to stomp into homes and bash his target's head in rather than stealthing. Anyway, Vicente is awake, if you are interested. Nighttime is his usual hours, after all." Ocheeva gazed at Zarissis for a second before returning her eyes to her book.

Zarissis bid her thanks and descended down the hall. As she approached Vicente's door, she was about to knock when the door swung open from the inside, revealing the vampire standing before her with a hand on the doorknob.

"Come in," he muttered huskily. Zarissis noticed his mood had changed dramatically. Instead of the flamboyant, perky personality she'd been faced with earlier, this one was quiet and sad. There was a parchment on the table, words written in cursive, but any attempt to read it was quickly diminished. As she entered Vicente quickly swept it beneath another pile, concealing whatever bad news she imagined it must have bore.

Vicente's hair wasn't in the same neat ponytail it had been the night before. It was still pulled back, but little strands of hair had escaped and fell around his face. Gazing at him, it was only then that Zarissis realized he looked much different then how she had remembered him. His cheeks were full and pink, and his eyes had changed to a deep shade of amber.

Zarissis had not stepped two feet into the room before Vicente sat before her, staring at her intently. He looked quite remorseful, and there were dark circles under his eyes. She frowned. Whatever was on the parchment must have been pretty bad, as she could not imagine that she would be the bearer of such a sorry state.

He quickly pulled out a chair for her and sat across the table. He folded his hands together, giving her his full attention.

"I must apologize for my behavior last night. Given your position as a new recruit, I never should have enticed you to drink." After a moment, a small smile graced his lips. "Then again, I'm not sure of many who would feel comfortable drinking themselves silly in the face of a vampire."

Zarissis didn't know quite how to respond. It was true that perhaps she ought to have been more cautious, but she felt oddly…comfortable around him. Maybe it was because he was so forward about his condition, or perhaps it was that he was the only person she had spoken to in a very long time about more personal matters. Zarissis couldn't ever recall telling someone of the brutality of some of her mother's actions.

"I had fun," she responded simply, smiling with all the innocence she could muster. It was not a difficult task. Vicente merely shook his head in a way that could have been described as scolding, but Zarissis ignored it.

There was something enticing about watching him, whether in his current saddened state or the lively, flamboyant man she had seen the night before. His lifeless eyes bore more spirit than many people she had met before. Zarissis knew that the years he'd spent as a vampire must have been difficult, but this looked like a man who remained positive about most situations.

A thought came to her, and she acted on it. In one bold, swift action, Zarissis stepped forward and gently grabbed one of the wisps of hair floating around his face, tucking it back into the ponytail. Vicente stiffened at her sudden approach but did not take his eyes off her face as she smoothed his hair down.

She didn't know quite why she did it, but many of her actions seemed to border on rash and impulsive recently. That was the entire reason she was even in the Dark Brotherhood – if she had ever given a second thought to killing Tristeran, she never would have done it. Yet, it seemed to turn out okay for her. She felt comfortable in the Sanctuary, even after a day. The minute she stepped over the threshold of the Black Door, she felt like she was finally home, and like every person in her new home was important to her. She had not yet found an explanation as to why, but even then, this same comfort extended into her heart before Vicente, despite his condition. And now she found herself inexplicably touching him in some way, far closer than she probably should be.

Once she had retied the ponytail, the vampire merely tilted his head to the side slightly, his body language clearly questioning. Zarissis didn't respond or provide explanation, as there was none to give.

After a moment, Vicente abruptly spoke. "You are an unusual girl." It was an odd sentence, and even stranger coming from one who had lived far longer than the typical mortal. She wondered if she should have been offended, but the tone of his voice was soft and suggested something more akin to a compliment.

"Thank you," she whispered in response, taking her seat again. Vicente still had his eyes focused on her, although now there was a frown on his face.

"When I told you I gave you alcohol to keep your company so I could listen to you talk, you did not show any evidence of shock or worry." Vicente appeared puzzled, narrowing his eyes. "Apart from becoming defenseless in the company of a vampire, even the best of us have secrets we wouldn't want to share."

Folding her arms over her chest, Zarissis merely raised an eyebrow. "What would I possibly have told you? As you know, I was a merchant's daughter. My mother monitored all I did, including what I felt like reading. There are very few things I have to hide, even from you, except perhaps that I have a copy of  _Immortal Blood_  and spent a great deal of my youth learning everything I could about vampires because I was  _fascinated_  by the concept of immortality." The words flowed from her lips, and Zarissis didn't bother to stop them.  _Although_ , she thought to herself,  _perhaps it was best not to mention Immortal Blood._

* * *

Vicente raised an eyebrow.  _Immortal Blood?_  That would certainly explain her sudden excitement after she overcame fear when first meeting him.

She was true to her word. He didn't understand how even someone like her could have no secrets, but her heart rate didn't lie. Even if she were the product of an overprotective household, which seemed like the case, it was hard to imagine having nothing to hide from anyone.

The girl seemed to be quite mysterious herself, at least to Vicente; typically he understood the character of a person and what to expect of them fairly early, but even after many hours of her company the night before, he still found her actions unpredictable. She was young and innocent and always had been. How had someone like her been driven to kill, and then been compelled to join an assassin's guild?

Her sudden closeness simply to fix his hair was perhaps the most baffling. She should have been  _far_  more wary about being in his presence, yet she approached him and touched him like a friend would. Her body language did not change; it was clear to Vicente that she was not in the habit of thinking her actions through. Still, he found it amusing how comfortable she seemed to be with him.

In his younger, human years in High Rock, Vicente had studied magic at the Mages Guild. He recalled that a person's subconscious would retain awareness of any spells placed on it, even if their memories were altered. If you shocked a man with chain lighting before entering a specific room and then modified his memories so he didn't recall what happened, the next time he'd go near the door he'd still hesitate and flinch, as though expecting the shock.

He worried that someone at some point had cast a spell on her, removed memories that she should have had. How else would she have known to kill someone when in danger? Most people he had met would scream, faint, or both - perhaps even tried to run. However, Lucien had been very specific in his recollection of her murder. She had pulled out the dagger as swiftly as any other killer and landed the blow nearly perfectly. Had she killed before and someone wiped her memories to protect her? The idea worried him extensively.

"Yes, you are quite right," he at last conceded. Deciding that this was a subject best left until another time, Vicente quickly switched to a different subject. "Onto business. I have one contract I can offer you; however, you will not be able to do it until Lucien has a word with you. Up for it?"

Zarissis shrugged and nodded. Without waiting for a verbal response, Vicente launched into an explanation of her assignment. "Excellent. Here is what you must do. Go to the Waterfront District of the Imperial City. There you will find a ship named the Marie Elena. Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston Tussaud. He'll be in his cabin. Eliminate Tussaud in any manner you see fit. The pirates have been moving a lot of cargo onboard lately. You may be able to smuggle yourself on board in one of the packing crates. Oh, and one more thing. Get into the habit of asking your fellow family members about any current contract. Their insight may prove invaluable."

Zarissis listened intently as he spoke. It was then, between his stream of words and her concentration, that he found that  _thing_  about her that made her so odd. There, caught up in processing what he was saying, she looked quite serious, far more mature than she had the other night.

The girl who stood before him was the kind who would seduce and trick for murder. She was a  _hunter_ , and her contracts the prey, unlike the little lark who babbled innocently the night before. Vicente never recalled Lucien telling him her age, and looking at her then, she could have been anything from fifteen to thirty and still beguile those around her.

"Out of curiosity, how old are you?" Vicente asked once she had learned of her target. Zarissis blinked in confusion, clearly put off by the sudden topic change and random nature of his inquiry.

"I'm twenty…" she responded slowly, nervously running her hands over her braid. "Why are you asking? How old are  _you,_ exactly?"

Oh, still so young, at least in Vicente's mind. Lucien always did have a knack for recruiting younger women, much to the Black Hand's irritation. There was no question that he had his eye on her, since the Speaker  _rarely_  spoke to a new recruit once they joined the Sanctuary, unless he needed them for business, and Zarissis was far too inexperienced for that. Vicente understood Lucien Lachance far better than he'd like to admit. The man had served him as Silencer many years ago, when Vicente still held the position of Speaker, and he had seen his cruel nature first hand. No doubt Lucien would do anything in his power to seduce the girl, merely for the concept of  _owning_  her. Vicente himself had nearly fallen for the dark-haired Imperial when he was just Vicente's apprentice. It was a dangerous road, one Vicente was careful not to walk again. And while he appreciated the Speaker and considered him a friend, Vicente was not so fond of the influences of Lucien Lachance. He'd seen many of Lucien's conquests become submissive and compliant, refusing to question or disobey any of Lucien's orders, no matter how absurd, and often they'd become aggressive and distrustful if someone else had any word to say against the man. With a traitor on the loose and clues pointing to Cheydinhal, Lucien was not in a good position.

The last thing the Sanctuary needed was another mindless, dutiful Sister to Lucien, and if the Speaker got his hands on her, Vicente knew that the little songbird he saw would be merely a haunted shell. Vicente simply couldn't let that happen.

Zarissis quietly panicked inside. After she had told the elder vampire her age, he had merely stared at her, his face expressionless. She didn't know what to expect. Did he think her too young to be a part of the Dark Brotherhood?

"Did I do something wrong?" She questioned slowly, staring at him through paranoid eyes.

Vicente seemed to realize again that she was there. His usual smile returned, with no evidence that his face had changed. "Of course not! You are simply a child compared to me. I was stricken with vampirism over three-hundred years ago, while on an expedition deep into the Ashlands of Vvardenfell. For nearly 100 years I hunted in secret, until the Dark Brotherhood found me."

"Oh." Zarissis didn't know what to say. She knew he was a vampire, of course, so naturally he wouldn't age, but she hadn't expected him to be as old as he was. The man before her was less gaunt than the day before, and his expression more humanly, so Zarissis assumed he must have fed. He looked quite young, only in his late twenties, as though he wasn't much older than herself when he was turned.

It was only then while she stared at him that she truly noticed the structure of his face. He had a square jaw but an oddly delicate chin, coupled with the still-prominent cheekbones, despite that his cheeks weren't nearly as emaciated. Even with his slightly feminine facial structure, there was something far more rugged in his face that Zarissis could only guess was due to years of struggle and hardship, as well as life in the Brotherhood and as a vampire.

Vicente cleared his throat, a smirk on his lips. Zarissis jumped, realizing she had been staring at him for quite some time. And why wouldn't she? Lucien may have had the rough and masculine aura about him and the face that she was certain most girls would swoon over, but Vicente was just as attractive when he had fed.

Zarissis felt her cheeks burn. She had never looked at someone before and found them attractive, yet here she was, ogling the vampiric Breton assassin whom she was to answer to after all of her contracts. Not to mention that he was probably completely aware of her sudden interest, due to the whole  _I can hear your heartbeat_  thing.

It looked as though Vicente was just about to speak when his chamber door burst open without warning, a black-robed Speaker stomping in angrily. Zarissis sighed in relief, yet again feeling saved by the man.

"You!" Lucien pointed at Zarissis, hissing as he launched forward. His sudden maniac action scared the girl, who instinctively clutched to the nearest person to her, inadvertently wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her face into his chest.

"I need to borrow the girl," Lucien demanded from Vicente, who merely patted the head of the creature now attached to him.

"I think," the vampire began, an unamused tone entering his voice, "that if you really want to speak to her, asking politely and calling her by name might be an excellent place to start."

Zarissis glanced up from her place against Vicente's side to see the two exchanging heated glances, tension building between them. At last, the Speaker's scowl deepened before he looked down to the little Breton girl.

"Zarissis," he began, his voice stiff. "I want a word with you."

She merely stared up at Lucien, who looked increasingly more unsettled as time went on. He seemed completely fine and normal the past two times Zarissis had encountered him, but before Vicente he seemed agitated.

"Okay," she replied quietly before gasping as sudden embarrassment hit her as she realized she had her arms locked tightly around Vicente. She quickly unbound her body from him and followed behind Lucien, casting a shy glance backward at Vicente as she left the bedchamber, only to be surprised to see his face a reflection of amusement.

 _Later perhaps_ , she thought to herself,  _he'll tease me for being a silly little bird, or something along those lines_. Still, his gentle quips were something she expected, and she was discovering that she looked forward to listening to his amiable pleasantries.


	6. Lust, Love, and Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behave yourself, Lucien.

_For as long as Vicente could remember, Lucien Lachance had always been dangerous. As a boy, barely a day over twelve, Lucien had crafted and executed a brilliant plan to murder his family the night of his birthday. As Speaker, Vicente had gone to recruit him and discovered him sitting in the blood of his mother, the crimson liquid smeared on his face like battle wounds while he smiled gleefully._

_The Dark Brotherhood was not in the habit of recruiting children, but the Night Mother made it clear that Lucien was an exception._ His cold heart, _she had told the Listener_ , will bring the Dark Brotherhood great fortune in the years to come.

_Vicente watched as the boy grew into a man, his viciousness growing every day. He was a delicate cross between a businessman and a psychopath, completing contracts punctually and to perfection, always keeping a professional outlook, but his methods were cruel and bloodthirsty. Vicente soon discovered that Lucien had no qualms about torturing his targets for hours before finally sending them to the Void, very much unlike his Sisters and Brothers who killed cleanly and neatly._

_He had to admit that as a vampire his own methods could be gruesome, but nothing to the likes of Lucien Lachance. It wasn't long before the young assassin rose through the ranks, and finally was promoted to Vicente's Silencer._

_Bloodthirsty, conniving Lucien was drawn to the intellectual and fatherly personality of Vicente Valtieri, and at the same time he was enchanted by the vampire's darker nature. At first, Vicente was ignorant of Lucien's interest, but some body language and signs could not be hidden. Vicente could never explain what drew him to bed the man, but his choice would haunt him for years to come. Together in his bed, the eccentric and the insane were one, and any other person might have mistaken it for love._

_No, Vicente later realized. Lucien was not the kind of man who loved, and any form of passion was merely a façade for possession and manipulation. The Breton was a smart man and had over two centuries of fighting those who sought to control his mind, and did not fall so easily to the young Imperial's schemes. Although Vicente knew he did not mean harm by the Dark Brotherhood, he was ambitious to a fault, and if bedding his mentor meant rising to the position of Speaker, then Lucien was sure to do it._

_After sharing many nights with the boy, Vicente finally decided to break off whatever 'arrangement' the two had. Lucien would, of course, rise to the position of Speaker at Vicente's retirement, however the relationship between the two was permanently damaged._

_Vicente spent many more years watching the now-mature man manipulate and possess any other recruit or family member, usually women, by his own desires. He never broke a Tenet, but even then Vicente disproved greatly._

* * *

Zarissis followed meekly behind the Speaker, whom she had determined at this point was at least the tiniest bit crazy. His crazed gaze as he smashed into Vicente's room had frightened her, but she told herself that she could not afford to be afraid while in the Brotherhood.

She liked giving him the benefit of the doubt. Certainly as a Speaker, control was important, so perhaps some of his unusual antics were actually a role he played to be more intimidating as an assassin. He seemed as though he might be able to be a decent fellow when not being a murderer…she hoped.

Lucien Lachance briskly led her to the training room, where he seized a sword off the weapon's rack and tossed it at her. Zarissis felt her face burn as she flinched at the airborne weapon before catching it clumsily, fumbling it for a moment before gripping it firmly.

He lifted a sword off the rack from himself, weighing it in his hands. "I'm going to test your weapon expertise. It is important as Speaker that I know the skills of my family."

Zarissis nodded, understanding his point. "Swords are nice…" she began, rolling the hilt around in her palms as she watched the light glint off the polished metal, "but I really do prefer daggers."

Lucien merely paused, giving her a calculating glance. After a moment, he took the sword from her hands, instead handing a pair of iron daggers over. From a hidden enclave in his robes, Lucien produced a pair of his own daggers, the ebony blades as dark as midnight. Zarissis immediately understood that her weapons were quite inferior in contrast, but what choice did she have?

"Show me what you can do," Lucien growled, a moment before Zarissis launched herself at him, metal flashing in the dim torch light. The Speaker sidestepped her easily, thrusting his own daggers at her torso. Zarissis glanced down and understood that he would have buried the ebony in her chest, had he not displayed self-restraint.

Lucien merely smirked, continuing the deadly blade dance. It was not common to engage in a close combat fight with two people wielding daggers, but when it happened, Zarissis understood that she needed to be prepared for an enemy as skilled and cunning as Lucien Lachance.

The two engaged in what seemed to be a ballet of skill, both twisting, ducking, and slipping past the well-aimed attacks of the other. Zarissis found herself doing better as time wore on, finding places that Lucien left open while trying to engage his weaknesses.

In the middle of their training, time seemed to slow. Zarissis hardly noticed how long their duel was, much less that she was an _even match_ for _Lucien Lachance_. By the Gods, it had never occurred before, but here she was, matching him attack for attack.

Zarissis barely understood it herself. With no formal training, it was as though someone was guiding her actions, whispering unconscious messages in her mind. More unsettling however was the way Lucien's eyes bore into her, as though trying to read everything about her all at once. In his eyes Zarissis saw shock and disbelief, but also another lingering stare, one so heated it made her face blush.

_Was that…lust?_

At her sudden realization, Zarissis made her mistake of the night, allowing Lucien an opening. In a matter of seconds, the blades were torn from her hands and Zarissis found herself on her back, wrists pinned above her head, gazing into Lucien's furiously heated stare.

It was only then that Zarissis realized how _close_ he was, and the heat rushing into her own cheeks. Lucien looked as though he wanted to tear her apart, in more ways than one. Something ignited within her, born from fire and passion and the heat of the moment. In one instant Lucien was above her, and the next his lips were against hers, the hot flesh battling for dominance over her own mouth.

Zarissis could only thank the Gods that no one was around, or certainly everyone would have spoken about the intense way she returned his impetuous passion, Lucien's lips pushing open her mouth before claiming her. His hands abandoned her wrists and he broke the kiss, using one hand to grip her chin roughly before turning her head to the side. She could only moan and scratch at Lucien's back as his mouth trailed down her neck, nibbling at the sensitive flesh.

He growled at the existence of her leather armor, which prevented him from continuing his ministrations on the red head. When he finally met her eyes again, Zarissis felt her heart hitch a bit at the intensity of his gaze. There was a dangerous gleam to his eyes, as though Zarissis had just engaged in his favourite game and he was clearly in the lead.

Perhaps even more disturbing was that she realized she was enjoying it. He had been so terrifying, but then in the heat of battle, something broke within her, releasing new feelings she had never felt before.

Lucien's lips pressed against hers again, this time almost… gentle? It was without the rough, intense craving desire, instead merely a light brush that bordered on affectionate. Zarissis could only stare at him in mild shock as he pulled away, this time pushing himself to his feet before holding a hand out for her. After a moment, she slipped her hand into his, and was pulled up.

"Don't you have a contract you should be getting to?" Lucien huffed, and Zarissis realized that he was back to his normal self, scowling at her as though he hadn't just been swapping spit with her on the training room floor. Zarissis could only nod, prompting a rather gruff _'Get to it then'_ before he stomped out of the room, presumably to attend to whatever business he had.

* * *

"What a pleasant surprise! My little songbird returns again." Vicente chirped as she re-entered his chambers a few hours later. Zarissis glanced at him, her cheeks growing red for not the first time that day as she closed the door behind her.

Oh how positively pitiful she looked. Vicente was unsure of what Lucien had done, but whatever it was, it was enough to have left her stumbling over her own feet, nervously wringing her hands at the same time.

"Zarissis?" Vicente felt himself questioning, approaching her slowly. She did not run, as she usually didn't, but Vicente still was cautious. Whatever had transpired had certainly left her feeling unsure and perhaps a bit flustered.

That's when it hit him. The overwhelming scent of Lucien radiating from her body, tinged with arousal from both parties. All of Vicente's nerves stood on end and it took great effort for him to not snarl at her. Lucien's familiar musky scent was enough to evoke strong memories in the elder vampire, things he thought he had long since suppressed.

Whether it was fear of Vicente's own anger that drove her to nervousness, or guilt over her actions, it did not matter anymore. Fearing his temper would snap it took everything for him to merely whisper a couple words.

" _Get out."_

At first she had merely stared at him in shock, but then at hearing the suppressed fury dripping in the tone of his voice, the little Breton had nearly scrambled to throw herself from his room. He listened to her foot steps as she ran down the hall before the sound faded all together and he was left in silence.

Vicente nearly sunk to his feet, his own emotions overwhelming. Vampires were not known for their control and moderation; just as their desires were more intense than mortals, so were there emotions. He wasn't angry at her, and he knew he'd have to apologize. However, at that moment he could not shake the startling images of what Lucien's desire had done to women before. Perhaps if she had been nobody, just another citizen, he could have turned a semi-blind eye to the acts, but this was a Sister, and one Vicente had begun to like in particular.

Lucien was not bad, but his attention was. Whatever he had planned for their newest recruit, Vicente knew he had to stop it. The poor child probably wasn't even aware of the danger she was putting herself in.

With a deep sigh, Vicente sunk into a chair, burying his face in his hands. Before him, memories and images flashed in his mind.

_Vicente gazed down at the sleeping boy's face, admiring the contrast of his long, dark eyelashes against pale skin, black hair spread messily over the pillow. Oh, clever little Lucien. How he bewitched all those he spoke to, sending men and women to their knees with a pure, unwavering air of sexual dominance._

_Then again, it was Vicente who taught him all he knew. Lucien was merely a boy, drinking out of a river stream and hiding in an abandoned bear cave when Vicente found him. His soul was dark even then; how a child his age could even imagine the possibility of murdering his parents was beyond Vicente. He had passed it off as abuse – certainly if Lucien was abused, it would have led him to such drastic measures? Lucien never revealed his past, and Vicente questioned if perhaps it was simply as natural for him to kill as it was for Vicente to desire blood._

_Vicente had been the Speaker at the time, and Lucien progressed quickly through the ranks as he grew older, killing his targets with finesse that Vicente had not witnessed in decades. When Lucien came of age and finally outranked most of his other Brothers and Sisters, Vicente finally called upon him to serve as Silencer, much to the boy's joy._

_It was there, in Fort Farragut where Vicente presided, that he truly saw the dangerous nature of the young assassin._

_At first, simple glances were exchanged that made Vicente quite confused, then when he was stressed and sitting at a table going over contracts, warm hands would run over his neck and through his hair before massaging his shoulders gently. Lucien would whisper words in his ear that made lust roar through his body. On more than one occasion, Vicente found himself pressed to the boy with a hand tearing his head back, possessively running lips over Lucien's neck. Always he would catch himself before he slipped, fighting the urge to sink fangs into his warm neck and throw his Silencer over a table with his robes hitched up around his waist._

_How he managed to escape with so much self-restraint was beyond Vicente, but Lucien spent every moment relentlessly attempting to seduce the elder vampire, always armed with a mischievous grin to prevent the man from being angry at him._

_Vicente unwittingly taught the young Silencer how to seduce like a vampire. There was one time when Vicente did break, and spent the night curled around the boy protectively. He merely watched the young assassin sleep, wrapped up in blood-red sheets, contemplating his relationship with Lucien as he realized he was falling in love, for the first time in ages. Did Lucien love him? Likely not, Vicente had realized. Lucien had enjoyed the cold, cruel nature of a vampire far more than Vicente liked, and much to his horror, this behavior began to reflect in his Silencer's actions._

_One night, Vicente assigned Lucien a contract in Bruma. He didn't know why he did it, but he felt compelled to follow the boy and see how his talents were progressing. As an assassin, he was marvelous. Vicente observed his Silencer pick off a family of six in merely an hour with poison, leaving no evidence of their cause of death, killing each in their sleep._

_However, afterwards Vicente continued to follow his Silencer as the dark-haired Imperial made a stop to the Inn in Bruma. The man ordered a drink, and within the next hour had a pretty brunette on his lap. He was polite and gentlemanly, much to the joy of his Speaker, seducing the girl with compliments and jokes. Vicente was about to leave the inn when Lucien took her back to his room, feeling as though his act of spying had come to an end, when his vampiric-hearing picked up the slight sounds of a struggle._

_Vicente had stood by the door, invisible, debating whether or not to interrupt his Silencer, but the scent of fear radiating from the room nearly intoxicated him. He finally made the choice to magically unlock the door and burst in._

_To his shock, Lucien Lachance was in the middle of recreating the very scene from the night before, mimicking Vicente's own loss of control in perfect execution. Lucien had released her as soon as his Speaker burst in, leaving the girl to curl up in fear and cry as blood ran over her shoulders and down her back, staining the sheets._

_He hadn't known how to feel. Of course, killing or torturing those who weren't contracts wasn't forbidden, but to see his own Silencer gleefully mimicking a behavior he'd never wanted to have himself startled Vicente._

_After that came the remembrance of the Sister who gave her life because of his foolishness. It wasn't Lucien's fault, not her death, not really, but Vicente blamed him for it anyway._

Perhaps the thing that Vicente hated in Lucien was the aspects of his personality that Vicente saw in himself. Was he really any better? Vicente had raped, killed, ripped out the throats of women he had seduced. He had tortured, murdered, watched in glee as the life left the eyes of another, and drank the blood of those he hated and loved.

They were not much different. Two sides of the same coin, one might say. Lucien was cunning and crafty and Vicente was mindful and discreet. Lucien's actions were bold and daring and Vicente did what had to be done. Both were calculating and cold. One who chose to be a monster and the other who fought against it.

And then there was Zarissis, caught somewhere in the middle. Headstrong and determined, she had run away from home out of refusal to marry a man she did not care for. She desired conflict and adventure, and that lead her to willingly accept murder. Fearless before a vampire and aroused from the touch of a madman, yet somewhat afraid of both at the same time. She had been afraid of Lucien, but at her return she had reeked of hormones and desire. She had feared Vicente just a bit, yet had spent her evening with him willingly and allowed him close to her. In the end, it did not matter how she once had been, the fact remained that she was comfortable being among the eccentric and insane.

They were certainly quite the selection of lunatics, Vicente thought. Whatever happened, he just hoped the family could hold together through the impending darkness.

* * *

A/N: I'm alive! Moreover, my muse is alive as well. Chapters may be shorter because it makes it easier for me to update (writing 8 pages at once is pretty hard).


	7. Passion Play

There were two things keeping Zarissis from focusing on the task at hand – one, the thought of Lucien's hands on her body, and two, Vicente's wrath from the night before. She would have sighed aloud, but considering she was smuggling herself onto a pirate ship from a packing crate, any form of noise would not be wise.

A day ago she had loathed the existence of the Speaker, but then _the incident_ occurred, as she had taken to calling it in her mind, and he was suddenly on her mind a lot more. However, something about him still made her nervous. His dominant personality and threatening demeanor screamed 'killer' more than Vicente's state of undeath.

As for Vicente…she desperately wanted to see him, to apologize for whatever she might have done to upset him. She wondered if he knew what had happened between her and Lucien, given his sudden outburst. _Maybe he was jealous_ , she wondered to herself quietly. No, that simply did not make sense. They did not know each other very well, and despite his loving pet names, Vicente seemed much more like the adult fatherly figure than a lover to her.

She shivered, although not from the cold. Being the lover of a vampire seemed like it'd be a very dangerous situation. _No more dangerous than being the lover of a sociopathic killer,_ Zarissis reminded herself.

There was a scuffle, and Zarissis felt the crate she was in being lifted, making her stomach lurch slightly.

"I thought these crates were supposed to be _empty?_ " The voice of a man grunted, his accent reminding Zarissis vaguely of the Skyrim travelers that wandered through the city.

"Feels pretty light to me. Are you sure you just haven't had too much to drink?" A second voice responds, and the crate lurched a bit as it was finally dropped into place. His voice was slightly higher, and unmistakably Imperial.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Well, that's the last of 'em. Better hurry back before the boss gets mad. You know how she gets."

Zarissis listened to the footsteps as the drifted away, before finally fading into silence, leaving her in the cargo dock with only the sound of light swelling of waves against the side of the boat.

With the men gone, the true implications of her situation began to sink in. She bit back fear and nervousness, instead focusing on pushing the lid off the crate and quietly sliding out.

The bay was empty apart from the crates, but Zarissis still felt her hand lingering near the dagger on her belt. Her armor felt a little stiff and awkward on her body, but she figured with a little sweat and blood it'd start to break in.

Zarissis carefully made her way to the hall leading out to the main floors of the ship, stepping as lightly as she could. At every echo and outburst of drunken laughter from somewhere on the ship, Zarissis's heart lurched, resulting in a frustrating scowl. She decided she didn't particularly like pirates, especially when she caught a portion of a story about how one stole the virtue of some poor girl in the city.

If Zarissis hadn't been on a job and therefore trying to be professional, she might have been tempted to kill them all. Then again, she wasn't entirely sure if she'd even survive that kind of attack against so many targets. One she felt comfortable with, any more than that and her chances of survival became minimal.

Ahead of her, light poured from a room, and as she slithered through the shadows voices quickly became louder. The figure of a man materialized itself in a dark cast on the floor, and Zarissis held her breath.

The figure suddenly stopped, as a voice called to him from in the light. "Hey mate, how's that son of yours doing? Still with his ma' in Anvil?"

Zarissis watched as the shadow responded, his hands moving as he spoke. "Oh yeah, he's just fine. She just bought herself a new house, always a clever girl, her. He's gettin' so big. Won't be long before he's tumbling around."

She couldn't see either of the men, but they were close. A part of Zarissis's heart sung out in protest; if she saw them, she'd have to kill them. Unfortunately, overhearing that little part of their conversation made her deeds that much more real. Every person she had killed, would kill, had a family and a life. She was tearing that away from them. Then again, what was she willing to pay for her freedom?

_Everything_ , Zarissis decided. She had come too far to turn back now.

The footsteps neared the door and Zarissis flattened herself against the wall, silently drawing her dagger. The man turned the corner, and without a sound, she landed a carefully aimed stab straight into his heart. His eyes barely registered what had occurred by the time the light faded from his eyes. Pressing all of her weight up, Zarissis caught the man as his limbs went slack, and lowered him to the ground silently. With any luck, no one would notice his death until later.

She approached the door and hesitantly peeked into the room. In the far corner, several men sat around a table with cards out, each studying his hand carefully. Zarissis pulled back before dashing silently passed, hoping that none looked up in the time it took for her to cross.

There were no shouts of alarm or sudden pursuit, proving that her stealthy run across the threshold had gone unnoticed. Further down the hall was a stairwell leading up. Zarissis only hoped that she'd run across the Captain's rooms soon. The less time she had to spend dodging pirates, the better.

At the top of the stairwell was another hall. This time, the voices of the pirates were louder, and even a few rough women's voices joined into the fray. Wherever they were, they were obscured from Zarissis's view. Immediately ahead of her in the hall was a single door. Given that most of the rooms on the ship were simply open archways to the halls, she hoped that was her destination.

Zarissis stealthily slunk over to the door, hoping her armor would hide her in the shadows for long enough. Reaching out, she tried the door, only to find it locked.

Lockpicking was not a skill Zarissis was very proficient in, as she never had a reason to learn it before. Luckily before she left the Sanctuary, Antoinetta caught her on the way out and told her a quick incantation for opening locked doors.

Breathing out slowly, she whispered the arcane words, listening carefully as the lock slid out of place. She placed a hand on the handle, and the door creaked open quietly.

There was no sound or movement from within the room, which was dark. Zarissis slipped inside, shutting the door silently behind her before reapplying the lock. Hopefully, that'd keep anyone out just long enough for her to finish her business.

Captain Tussaud was lying on a large, fluffy bed in the corner, his large stomach rising and falling as he snored. Near his bed was a chest on top of some drawers, and Zarissis quickly found her curiosity getting the better of her. After all, he was asleep and she had been undetected, so she might as well snoop a bit.

The chest was locked, but her spell remedied that, although draining what little of magicka she had. Inside were several precious jewels and a bag of gold, so much that Zarissis resisted a little giggle of happiness at the treasure. She quickly tucked them into the many pockets of her armor before approaching the bed.

Tussaud laid on his back, drool dripping out of his open mouth. The sheets looked badly ruffled, as though he was the type to thrash around in his sleep. _Apparently not all of us sleep soundly_ , she thought to herself out of amusement, Lucien's words ringing in her ears.

She raised her bloody dagger, which she still held in her hand. A sense of euphoria washed over her, her mind reveling in the power that she held. Perhaps this thrill was what enticed murders to do what they did.

Unfortunately, Zarissis hesitated just a bit too long, as a harsh knock rang at the door, followed by a worried shout. Tussaud's eyes flew open, and Zarissis abandoned her meticulous act, instead seizing the man by the hair and tearing open his throat with the tip of her dagger, severing through muscles and flesh. The action sprayed the best and herself with blood, Tussaud gurgling silently as he suffocated. For good measure, Zarissis stabbed him in the chest.

The banging at the door became louder, followed by the desperate rattle of someone attempting to open the door. Zarissis glanced around the room, looking for a way out. Her eyes settled on the balcony door, and without a further thought she ran for the doors, throwing herself onto the balcony before diving off the side of it, cold sea water flooding around her senses.

For a moment the shock of the cold froze her limbs, but once the surprise wore off Zarissis propelled herself forward, grateful that she had learned to swim.

It was a while before she finally pulled herself onto shore, cold biting through her armor. Her hair was a mess and she smelled like seawater, although the blood had been washed off her body. Nearby was a satchel of clothes and food that she had enough sense to hide earlier, just in case. Zarissis quickly dug it back out of the enclave it was hidden in, pulling off her armor for plainclothes.

The great thing about Dark Brotherhood armor was that it repelled water, blood, and any other form of fluid. Otherwise, they might be somewhat pointless. Zarissis shoved her armor in her bag and made her way back to the city, deciding that she had earned a few hours of leisure time.

* * *

The Sanctuary was quiet when she returned a couple days later. With the money that Zarissis had stolen from Tussaud, she was able to get a rather nice inn in the city and a bath, as well as a few pairs of new clothes. After all, what girl didn't like to shop?

It seemed most of her Family were off on contracts – even the Living Quarters were relatively deserted, except for the Sanctuary's pet rat, Schemer, who had curled up on Zarissis's bed, his nose twitching occasionally in his sleep. Normally, she would have freaked out over seeing a giant Skeever, except that Schemer was quite docile and sweet, and his fur smelled like floral bath soaps – most likely the work of Antoinetta, Zarissis thought. Besides, Schemer was less disturbing than the animated skeleton that cleaned up the Sanctuary.

With her belongings carefully put away, Zarissis scratched Schemer behind the ear before walking back into the main hall. She wasn't sure if Vicente knew she was back, but either way she'd have to see him. She needed to announce the completion of the contract…and probably apologize while she was at it.

She headed down the hall to his room, where a dim light shone beneath the door. Usually Vicente lit his room through magelights, but this seemed to suggest candles. She was about to knock, but the door swung open before she had a chance.

"Ah, the little songbird has returned! Took a bit more time than I was expecting. I hope you didn't run into trouble." Vicente's face was gentle, with none of the furious wrath that Zarissis had seen in their last encounter.

"Well, no, not exactly, although there was one more casualty then I had been hoping." Zarissis frowned, running her fingers over her customary braid. Her hair was long now, so long that even when braided it hung nearly down to her stomach. She supposed at some point she'd have to cut it, but for now she rather enjoyed the length.

Vicente nodded, although he seemed to already know the information she had told him. He ushered her to sit down at his table, make-shift desk, now absent of some of the paperwork that often covered it. "In the future I'd recommend limiting your kills to only your contracts, for professionalism, but for a first contract you performed well."

Despite his soft tone, Zarissis could tell she was being reprimanded; however Vicente merely smiled and made a motion with his hand, as though he was waving the matter off. He reached into his vest and pulled out a little black pouch, setting it on the table in front of him.

"It is due time that I give you your first reward. Although a bit sloppy, the pirate Tussaud has been eliminated. No one will mourn his passing, and Sithis has been appeased. Well done." As he spoke, Vicente opened the pouch and pulled out a ring, delicately engraved with Daedric letters. It was made from ebony, a metal so dark that it didn't even shine in the light.

He held it out for Zarissis, who took it gingerly before slipping it on her finger. Her mouth opened in a slight _oooh_ as the enchantment became active. After a moment of focus, she drew upon the power in the ring.

The world around her seemed to darken, and Zarissis watched as the man in front of her turned a brilliant ambient purple, the color seeming to glow off his skin. She gazed down at her own hands, only to see herself glowing as well, although somewhat dimmer, as though the spell worked better on those other than the caster.

"Enchanted with some minor assists, such as magic resist and armor, although as you may notice it also contains the Detect Life spell." Vicente waved his hands toward her person, obviously indicating the purple glow. "I would be careful about drawing on the power around others, as it tends to give the bearer's eyes a purple glow."

Zarissis dropped the spell, and slowly the purple faded, returning the world to its normal colors. Her brow furrowed as she gazed at the vampire. "If the spell is called Detect Life, then why does it work on you?"

Vicente smiled, tapping a finger over his chest. "Although it is called Detect Life, my best bet is that it assumes life based on souls. There is life all around us, in flowers, in trees, in the alchemical regents we use. The undead are called such, as they are not _technically_ dead. Although my body has long since abandoned the usual functions of the living, I am conscious." He paused there, and Zarissis noticed his hand rise rather unconsciously to the amulet around his neck, running his fingers over it in thought. She wondered if there was something significant to it, but decided to ask another time.

The elder vampire broke his silence, continuing his lesson. "I live, I have opinions, I eat, I do _most_ things that mortals would do. If you were to use your spell, you may notice that even the Dark Guardians glow, although it may be a source of debate as to whether they have souls." He grinned, as though remembering a private joke. Zarissis wondered if perhaps he and Lucien had gotten into such an argument, the former arguing for the sake of the undead and the latter believing them to simply be works of magic. Although, one might just as easily say that the magic that turned Vicente into a vampire may have rendered him soulless.

Zarissis knew that wasn't the case. It was Vicente who had rescued her from her attacker, when he may have simply watched. He walked her home, taking care to keep her safe. Those were not the actions of a soulless creature, and his friendship to her was as real as any other she could have with any of her living brothers and sisters. She tapped her lips, deep in thought. "But the Dark Guardians, they do not live like me, or even you. Do they have opinions, or comprehension?"

As if he understood her previous musings, Vicente responded with a smile. "When Lucien joined the Brotherhood, he and I discussed this very thing. They may be simple, but I am rather firmly under the belief that even the Dark Guardians have some level of understanding and consciousness. Have you ever yelled at one before? It is surprising to see a skeleton act so rejected." Vicente laughed, and Zarissis found herself giggling in response.

There was something to be said about Vicente. His company was easy and sitting alongside him was comforting and genuine. However, Lucien's actions sometimes seemed strained, as though there was something holding him back. It was not a matter of charisma, for the Speaker had plenty of that. Zarissis was sure he could trick anyone into believing a mouse was a rabbit, if he so desired. However, it was as though there was some troubling memory or past that kept him aloof, although it seemed as though he befriended Vicente fairly well.

The thought of him reminded Zarissis of the incident the previous night. "Vicente," she began, breaking the joyful tone in the room with her own tentative voice, "Why were you so furious the last time we spoke? Was it something I did?"

She was surprised her own voice was as steady as it was, despite the roaring insecurity raging inside. Vicente made a face as though he were about to speak – and fell silent again. Even Zarissis could tell he was choosing his words with care.

Finally, and after much contemplation, Vicente sighed. "I suppose I acted a bit rashly, and for that I owe you an apology. You see, I have some…resentment toward the Speaker that has not resolved itself in many years." He tapped his fingers on the table, and for the first time Zarissis thought she saw a little bit of sadness in his eyes. Whatever had occurred had clearly haunted him for a long time. Perhaps that was why Lucien seemed so reserved, and explained the tension she saw the night she had dueled with Lucien.

Zarissis didn't say anything, but waited for some elaboration. It seemed Vicente knew he wasn't escaping with a simple answer. "Many years ago, when I was still Speaker and Lucien my Silencer, we had a relationship… of a kind."

She tried not to let her shock show, but failed badly. Zarissis had assumed, this whole time, that Lucien was the kind of man to hunt down pretty girls and attempt to seduce him, not ever realizing that perhaps girls weren't his _only_ type.

Vicente, on the other hand, had lived for hundreds of years, and didn't strike Zarissis as the kind to have a sexuality. When she sat across from him, it was as though he saw through her skin and into her soul, assessing her for the type of person she was and not for her appearance or gender. She could imagine him doing that with any number of people, male, female, or otherwise. However, she suspected that he had not been with anyone since Lucien. He seemed to regard the man still as one would someone who they recently had a falling out with.

"I'm afraid I still carry old prejudices," Vicente continued, frowning. "When he was younger, Lucien was just as clever as he is now, and very quick to learn. His ambition raised him through the ranks and landed him as my Silencer. There was some fault on my part, I suppose. I misinterpreted his eagerness to serve the Dark Brotherhood and that damning ambition as some interest in me. You see," Vicente paused, thinking carefully. "A Silencer serves as a personal assistant to a Speaker. Although their position in the Dark Brotherhood is known, they are not often spoken of. Once a Silencer serves a Speaker, they answer solely to that Speaker. No longer do the tenets and laws of the Brotherhood apply. Many Speakers interpret it as a form of ownership, of power, and I was no different."

"Lucien was not the kind to back down from a challenge, and his ambition meant he was hardly going to oppose something if it could land him a higher rank. My interest took me too far, and we became lovers…" there was a pause there, Vicente's eyes searching Zarissis's face for any form of apprehension on the topic he was about to embark. "For vampires, lust and blood are often the same. To be a vampire's lover is a dangerous road of power play, and I unknowingly taught an ambitious and charismatic Brother how to have that form of _control_ over another person."

Vicente sighed. "I worry for you because I've seen it before. While I have yet to tend the wounded friendship between us, I don't mean to destroy yours with the Speaker. I simply mean to warn you of the road you may embark on."

Zarissis had gone quiet, her mind deep in thought. Although he had not directly said it, it seemed to be implied that Vicente may have had some form of affection for Lucien, who likely did not return it. She wondered if that was still the case. She still did not quite understand what he meant by 'power play', but if it was anything like their meeting on the training room floor, then Zarissis might have some grasp of what he meant. How quickly he had torn down her defenses and taken over the situation, leaving her panting on the floor. Was Vicente capable of the same thing, then?

The thought almost made her cheeks burn, and she was sure Vicente had seen the minor reaction, although if he did he chose not to mention it. Instead he watched her in idle silence, likely gauging her responses to the things he spoke of.

She _should_ have been alarmed, but she wasn't, and that made her a little uneasy. She was far more unhappy over the tension between the two. She wanted to speak out, tell Vicente to mend the rift, but given the nature of the evening chose against it.

Instead she stared at the band on her hand, twisting it around her finger. Was she skilled enough to turn the tables on Lucien should he attempt some level of dominance over her? Moreover, did she _want_ to? With Tristeran, his feeble attempt to overpower her had made her angry and upset, but with Lucien, there was a form of calm understanding between the two. He was her Speaker and her new Brother, and to some degree she trusted him not to hurt or kill her, in the same manner that she trusted Vicente.

They seemed very much alike, the two of them. It had not passed her notice that Vicente and Lucien shared similar personalities, although Lucien was more secretive and Vicente was upfront. She imagined that when pushed, Vicente was more than capable of the same menace with which the other family members spoke of Lucien bearing, which Zarissis had seen a glimpse of in their training battle.

After several minutes of thinking, Zarissis finally dismissed herself for bed. Vicente had nodded understandingly, and at last Zarissis stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace.

She had expected him to break the hold much sooner, but instead both of them didn't move for several minutes, Vicente's cheek resting on the top of her head. There was something to be said about being short – hugs with those who were taller were quite encompassing and comforting. When they finally pulled away, there was a questionable and unreadable look in Vicente's eyes, and Zarissis spent the entire walk back to the Living Quarters puzzling over it.

Perhaps it made sense then that it was Vicente on her mind, and not Lucien, when she fell asleep.


	8. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarissis develops some unexpected feelings after a rather incriminating dream.

A/N: I apologize greatly for the neglect on this story. I've wanted to update it sooner, but my health has been steadily declining since September. I currently have a couple of procedures coming up soon, so hopefully I'll get to the bottom of this. Unfortunately, between my college classes and my other obligations, I've been a bit bedridden, and I can't really promise any updates in a timely manner. For those of you who have stuck with me this far, thank you so much. This story is still of utmost importance to me, and I promise I will definitely not be abandoning it ever. One way, or another, I will finish it. Zarissis and I have been through too much to not finish it. :')

* * *

Zarissis buried her face in the pillows, trying to dismiss the light that threatened to tear through her sleep. She had such a long day, all she wanted was to continue resting…

At first all she felt was the ghost of a touch on her calf, then cold fingers dragging languidly up her leg to the crook of her knee. Before she had time to lift her head and glare at the sudden intruder, the fingers slipped under her nightgown and invaded the pressing heat of her thighs, fingernails digging into her soft flesh.

Her complaint died in her throat, and Zarissis moaned into the pillow pressed against her face. This had to be Lucien's doing; Zarissis could imagine that only the Speaker would have the gall to touch her so freely.

"Lucien," she whispered as the fingers returned, this time ghosting against the revealed flesh of her neck. She felt his breath against her ear, the sensation sending waves of heat to her core. Her fingers buried themselves in the sheets, fabric poking through whitened knuckles.

She tried to open her eyes but instinctively shut them as his mouth delicately came to her neck, lips teasing the flesh between his tongue. It felt so good, but something felt wrong, decidedly unnatural…

It was only then that Zarissis realized the tongue on her neck and the hands now creeping up her sides to linger on her breasts were both very, very cold.

Her eyes flew open and Zarissis rolled herself onto her back, coming face to face with her new uninvited lover. Red eyes stared intently into her own green ones, and the man languidly touched her cheek. Zarissis found she could only stare back in a mixture of disbelief and her own painful arousal.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted, little songbird?" The man above her whispered, his High Rock accent as present as ever, a small smile gracing his fanged mouth. Before Zarissis had a moment to respond, she found herself lurched out of the image, darkness flooding her senses before she awoke to the dim candlelight of the living chambers.

Her body bolted out of bed, partially out of shock and partially out of her own cognition. Instead of landing safely on her feet however, her sheets tangled up in a lumpy mess around her body and she tripped over them, landing ungracefully on the floor with a loud crashing noise, followed by her own shout of surprise.

It was perhaps her luck that the majority of her family was at that precise moment in the Dining Hall, otherwise Zarissis may have burned with embarrassment. It was worse enough that she still felt the aftereffects of her dream without having to explain why exactly she flew out of bed and collapsed on the floor.

However would she face Vicente again? The smallest glance at him and she knew her cheeks would glow with embarrassment, and perhaps she'd feel a bit of arousal…and he'd know, surely, because of the whole enhanced-vampiric powers thing.

To make matters worse, he was her boss, for Sithis's sake! She'd have to face him, sooner or later. Perhaps she could feign illness long enough for her dream to become forgotten, although she highly doubted even that would work. The feel of his fingertips along the insides of her thighs, his breath on her ear! It made her squirm and whimper on the floor in a decidedly humiliating way. She'd never even been with a man, certainly never been touched by a man in such a way, yet it felt so real.

Untangling herself from the floor, Zarissis smoothed out her nightgown and sat on her bed with a sigh. Perhaps illness could work. With any luck, Ocheeva, Tel, and Antoinetta would fuss over her for a few days, and Vicente would be too busy with work to bother seeing her. Hopefully.

She picked her sheet off the floor and shook it out before curling back up in bed. She could pretend to have a stomach ache, perhaps from eating something bad on the way home. Or maybe just a cold, given that she did hop into the freezing cold waters of the Imperial Bay.

Zarissis didn't have to think long, as at that precise moment Antoinetta dashed into the bedroom, her typical excitable smile plastered on her face.

"Oh Zarissis! You're awake, wonderful!" She smacked her hands together and hopped onto her own bed, pillows flying into the air on impact. "How did your first contract go? I hear you cut his throat. Sounds delightfully…bloody! And you got the –"

Antoinetta's voice cut off suddenly, and her mouth formed into a slight frown. "Something wrong, Zaris? You're not looking so well."

"I – I'm just not feeling quite well, nothing to worry about though. Some rest should certainly help me." Zarissis pulled the covers closer around her head, curling into a ball. Lying to her Sister and attempting to hide her own embarrassment was nearly making her feel ill, though.

Antoinetta's frown deepened, lines appearing on her forehead as she furrowed her brow. "I could get Vicente, if you'd like? He's a master at potions, could fix you up instantly. He wanted to see you anyway."

"No! – I mean, no, it's okay. I'll be fine. Tell Vicente I just need rest for a day or so." From under the sheet, Zarissis bit her lip hard, teeth imprinting onto the rosy flesh.

"Oh, well, okay. Hope you feel better then." Still frowning, Antoinetta got up from her bed and gave a quick wave before leaving the Living Quarters, a confused expression still plastered on her face.

* * *

Vicente was nose-deep in contracts, sorting through the piles of paper the Black Hand kept shoving on him. Or more accurately, what Lucien kept shoving on him.

There was no doubt that his relationship with the Speaker had been strained, as of lately, but his mind had been occupied for hours since his conversation with Zarissis. What happened between him and Lucien was truly quite a long time ago, even for a mortal, and perhaps it really was time for him to let go of it. Lucien was no longer the cursory, shallow child he had been decades ago. Since then, he'd grown into an ambitious and loyal child of Sithis, and there was no doubt in Vicente's mind that the Dark Brotherhood would be worse off without him. Not to mention that Lucien would stand by all the members of Cheydinhal, even Vicente, with his life.

Vicente feared that he may soon have to.

Talk of a traitor among the Brotherhood was increasing, and with the way things were occurring, Vicente sensed that the evidence was to point to Cheydinhal. Whomever this killer was, they wanted revenge, and someone in Cheydinhal had wronged them in some way. Vicente couldn't think of anyone he or one of the lower-ranked members could have offended, so logically it stood to reason that the culprit was looking to ruin Lucien.

Lucien stepped on many toes to get where he was, but he had always been careful. Somehow, Vicente knew this wouldn't be over anytime soon.

He gazed idly at a contract, while his mind glanced over different ways to formally apologize to his Speaker and former friend. It was long due to repair that relationship.

A loud and intruding knock sounded on his door, and without being invited in, Antoinetta dashed in. Her lack of respect for his privacy made him scowl, but he wisely chose not to mention it.

Vicente gazed up, expecting to see her usual joyous and unwavering gaze, instead replaced by a confused and unhappy frown. Immediately, he felt himself stiffen, dread washing over him silently. Antoinetta did not usually look so down, not unless Lucien rejected her advances, but Vicente knew for a doubt that the Speaker was off on his own business. He chose to prepare for the worst.

"I went to see Zarissis, and – "

The words were hardly out of her mouth before Vicente flew to his feet, hearing only Zarissis's name and pairing it with the expression on Antoinetta's face. If something was wrong, if someone hurt her…the idea was too painful for Vicente to finish. He wasn't sure when he became so attached to her, but he knew he had to see her. He simply had to.

He quickly seized Antoinetta by the arms, eyes flashing dangerously. "Is she okay? Did something happen to her?"

Antoinetta's voice died in her throat at the sound of his near-growl, and she did all she could not to stand and gape. "She – she's okay! Just sick, I swear!"

He roughly released her and stomped to one of the cabinets, nearly tearing the door off its hinges as he searched for a healing potion. Finding what he desired, he clutched the glass bottle in his hand and dashed from the room, leaving Antoinetta far more confused and disgruntled than she'd been in the first place.

"Vampires are crazy," she muttered to herself as he flew down the hall. Had he not been preoccupied, the comment may have made him frown.

His rushed stalk through the Sanctuary would have drawn attention had the majority of his Family not been busy, and had Lucien been there the Speaker would have been on high alert. Vicente was not the type to go on melodramatic walks and brood, especially during the day.

With little care for the privacy or modesty of those within, Vicente entered the women's Living Quarters and was beside Zarissis's bedside in an instant, aided by his inhuman speed.

Unfortunately, there was something somewhat terrifying by being alone one moment and having a vampire by your bed the next. Startled, Zarissis jumped and would have shrieked had Vicente not clamped his hand to her mouth. She quickly gathered the sheets around her and pressed her back to the wall.

Her odd behavior was the first thing he analyzed. She had been fine just the previous night, no scent of illness or disease clinging to her. If she was sick, how had he missed it?

"V – Vicente," she stuttered, her face turning an awful shade of red. Her voice died in her throat and she sat staring at him in an awkward kind of shock. Had he not been possessed with worry, he would have discovered what the problem was almost immediately. Instead, Vicente pressed a hand to her forehead, testing her temperature beneath his palm.

She seemed normal, other than her erratically beating heart. He tried to ignore it, but with the intensity of its pounding, he almost feared she'd have a heart attack. After a moment he placed a hand on the wall behind her and leaned closer, hoping not to pick up the scent of poison clinging to her skin.

And then it hit him, fully, in the face. Beneath her shock, fear, and the tantalizing pound of blood in her veins, there was something primal and desperate that Vicente was far too familiar with. He had smelled it on many others before, but never her.

That could only explain why she had her head turned so painfully away, so as not to look at him, and the deep redness of her cheeks.

Her arousal didn't embarrass him. Instead, the worry he'd felt over her wellbeing melted off of him, replaced by joyous relief. Vicente threw back his head and laughed, pulling the stiff and shy girl into his arms.

""Silly songbird," he murmured between his own bursts of joy. He did not laugh at her, certainly not, but over his own concern when truly she had been so embarrassed to come before him she faked illness. Surely, she had told Antoinetta not to send him; he likely would have heard that had he let her finish speaking.

He cupped her delicate face in his hands and nuzzled her cheeks as a Khajiit would, social boundaries pushed aside. She was well, and alive, very much so alive! Zarissis at some point realized he wasn't mad or upset with her, and he felt her relax in his arms, cheeks finally returning to a normal shade of pink.

As his own laughter receded, he glanced down to see her stare as she gazed at him with wide, chartreuse eyes. "So naïve," he murmured, not unkindly. His words only made her blush again.

When did he become so enamored with such a creature? As his own elation subsided, he became hyperaware of the thin piece of cloth barely covering her and the swell of her breasts pressed up against him. His arms tightened instinctually around her waist, grasping at the soft flesh there.

She must have felt the gentle shift, as an almost inaudible gasp escaped her lips. A mortal wouldn't have heard it, but Vicente's sensitive ears picked up the gentle release of air. He almost growled in a possessive manner, the vampire rising up against the firm human boundaries he placed in his mind. It was so very amusing, he thought, that only a few days ago she walked into his office flushed from kissing the Speaker, but his mere presence and touch made her painfully desperate.

He hummed in delight. "I sense that it was not the thought of Lucien to have you so riled up, now was it, little songbird?"

Zarissis buried her face further into the material of his shirt, as though she could hide from her own physical reaction. Vicente smiled against her hair, very much enjoying this new development between them. To others – to Lucien – he had been rough, aggressive, and at times violent, but Zarissis was a delicate creature, her own innocence standing out starkly against the bloodlust she'd already demonstrated. Bloodlust aside though, taking a life was far different than the passion and intimacy of romance and sex.

Had she been anyone else, someone more experienced and less endearing to him, he would have been tempted to throw her down and take her right there, regardless of who may or may not walk in. However, he was more than certain that Zarissis was as inexperienced as one could be. He would not be inconsiderate and rough with her; he intended to romance and court her as a man would have done the many years ago when he was younger.

He pressed a silent kiss to her forehead and looked down at her, stroking a finger over her cheek. "Why don't you get dressed, and then we can discuss the terms of your next contract?" She merely nodded silently in response.

She unwound her arms from around his waist, his body immediately missing the delicious warmth she provided. He merely ran a hand through her unkempt hair as she pulled away, orange waves sliding between his fingers.

After a moment he turned away, giving her the privacy to change. As he walked back down the hall to his chambers, he whistled a joyful toon, earning him the confused and suspicious glance of Antoinetta as he passed.

* * *

Zarissis had never before been able to say that dressing was agonizing, but truly, the slow process of stripping off her night gown and pulling on each piece of her armor could be described as nothing short of torturous. Every rub and scrape of fabric against her skin seemed far more intense than she had ever felt before.

Vicente's appearance did nothing to ease her arousal. At first she'd been terrified, and then his own amusement at her reaction had put her at ease, but being pressed against his body only made her need rage stronger. She had touched and hugged him before, but never had it been like this. Not even Lucien's touch had set her nerves alight like electricity.

Where did her relationship with Vicente stand now? He had been so affectionate, so loving towards her in a manner he had never displayed, and then even teased her about her apparent arousal toward him. He was not disturbed, or even mildly uncomfortable by this new advancement between them; he seemed to welcome it.

At last she did up the last buckle, and walked what seemed like an eternity to Vicente's room. Her stomach growled uncomfortably from lack of food, but she was so anxious she didn't know if she could eat.

He was certainly waiting for her when she knocked and entered, sitting at his table with a neat pile of contracts in front of him.

"Ah, songbird, at last." His smile was nearly contagious. If it hadn't been so filled with warmth, she may have been unnerved by the uninhibited display of his fangs, but even that aspect of his person seemed oddly endearing when paired with the look on his face.

Zarissis smiled back then for the first time today, just before her eyes flit down unconsciously to his throat. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and Zarissis couldn't help but note that in her mind. Had he always worn them that way?

She sat across from him at the table, and he lifted up a contract as if to read it, although his eyes never left her face.

"Your last contract went quite well, so I have another one for you if you'd like. I suspect it will be a good test of your talents. Tell me, Zarissis, are you familiar with accidents?"

The last sentence was spoken almost breathily, and Zarissis was suddenly aware of how palpable the sexual tension in the room was. She now understood that her own arousal had, at some point, become a mutual experience. The thought nearly made her cheeks burn again, this time from shyness.

"Perhaps, just a bit," she whispered quietly, feeling the tiniest bit self-conscious at this new display of interest. "I am ready for my next contract, though."

"As I expected, excellent. Your target is a Wood Elf named Baenlin," his eyes broke hers to dart down to the contract now, but only briefly before meeting hers again, "You will find him at his home in Bruma. Enter secretly and avoid his manservant, Gromm. On the second floor is a secreted door leading to a crawlspace. Inside are the fastenings of a mounted head that hangs over Baenlin's favorite chair. Loosen the fastenings any night between eight and eleven, and the head will surely fall on Baenlin as he relaxes in his chair, as is custom. If Baenlin is killed in any other manner, or if the manservant Gromm is killed, you will forfeit the bonus. Sound acceptable?"

Zarissis nodded, trying to commit the information to memory. Eight to eleven at night, second floor, crawlspace, avoid bodyguard. "Got it," she nodded, trying desperately to focus on her contract and not the intense red eyes that stared at her intently. At last she tore away and stood, turning to leave, but Vicente stood with her and took her wrist, pulling her back to him.

"You should ask the Family for advice. You may find their suggestions to be invaluable." His face was inches from hers, this time not giving her a chance to conceal her face in his shirt. She simply nodded, not sure exactly how to respond anymore. It seemed as though a heavy fog was falling over her mind, blocking out anything but the immortal man before her.

At last he put a hand against the small of her back and pulled her against him, the other hand taking her chin in his fingers. With an incredible amount of tenderness, Vicente leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Zarissis felt her entire body respond to his touch, heat rushing through her. He was gentle and cold, and the graze of his mouth was nothing like the ruthless attack when Lucien kissed her. She was only somewhat aware of her arm wrapping around his shoulders while the other came to his waist. She leaned into the kiss, deepening it, and Vicente responded with his own increased aggression. His hands tightened around her and his lips pried hers open, turning something sweet into something far more passionate.

She was only aware he was pushing her backwards when her back hit the wall and he removed his arm at her waist to hold himself up against the stone. Zarissis's own breath came in gasps, slowly dissolving into needy pants as he kissed down her neck, tongue seeming to focus on one specific spot. She was surprised to feel his breath against her, despite not needing to breath.

At that point she felt his fangs, very sharp, against her skin. They did not pierce, but Zarissis gasped at the feeling. It was not unwelcome; in fact, in her present state the idea of sharing something so intimate with Vicente made her very aroused. One of his hands left the wall, coming to cup her neck on the other side. The pressure increased, and Zarissis wondered briefly why he seemed to hesitate.

After a very long moment he withdrew, and she was surprised to find herself disappointed. "Vicente?" she whispered as he pulled away, a very content but passive look on his face.

"You didn't push me away," he uttered quietly, disbelief slipping into his voice. Of all emotions, shock was not one she'd suspect to see from him. He ran his thumb down her cheek, stopping at the corner of her mouth. "Has a vampire ever bitten you before?"

Now he sounded worried. Zarissis scowled. "What? No! I didn't even know vampires weren't a fable until I met you. Why would you suspect such a thing?"

Relief passed over his features for not the first time that day. "There are not many people who will let a vampire close to their throat. Most who would have experienced it before or lack some form of self-preservation." This seemed to be some kind of private joke to him, as he looked up from her face and chuckled briefly, an unusually dark sound. "I admit, I did get a little carried away."

"You could have, you know. I wouldn't have stopped you." It sounded like somewhat of a foolish thing to say, but she did now feel trust for him. It seemed odd that just the previous day she was pining for Lucien, but now here she stood willing to allow a vampire to bite her. Perhaps she really did lack self-preservation.

Vicente just shook his head. "A vampire bite is no small thing. Perhaps once you prove yourself worthy I will pass on my gift to you. Now you have to contract to do. Go, and may Sithis be with you." He kissed her head and released her.

She nodded and glanced over her shoulder as she left, watching him as he watched her, his offer ringing in her ears.


	9. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarissis sets off to Bruma for her second contract.

Zarissis decided to follow Vicente's advice and ask for help on her contract from her Sisters. It proved to be a shockingly difficult task, as it seemed everyone was always running to and from the Sanctuary on various missions.

Fortunately, or somewhat unfortunately for her, Tel and Gogron assumed her absence from breakfast was an indication that she was out on a contract, not visiting with Vicente. Zarissis entered the Living Quarters with the intention of packing for Bruma, silently counting off the things she would need for her trip, before she stopped in her tracks. Tel had her arms around Gogron and was kissing him noisily while he struggled to remove her bra band.

Gogron was the first to notice her. "Oh hey there, Zarissis! We thought you were on a contract," he chortled, despite Tel's embarrassed gasp. Quickly she pressed herself into his arms, as though trying to retain some modesty. It wasn't like Zarissis hadn't seen her before in various states of undress, but she supposed that was different.

Perhaps she would have been more embarrassed had her fiasco with Vicente not occurred earlier that day, but instead Zarissis simply shuffled her feet and looked to the ceiling, attempting not to stare at the two. It seemed that coupling was not a rare occurrence in the Sanctuary.

"I'm going to be leaving for a contract in a bit. I just need to, ah, grab some of my things. Is that okay? Then you can resume…whatever you were doing." Finally, the start of a blush was beginning to rise into her cheeks, but luckily the dim candlelight of the room hid that fact. She especially did not want to think about what they were in the middle of, although it was quite obvious. If she thought about that, then she'd think about the fingertips of another on her face…

She could practically hear the grin in Gogron's voice. "Sure thing! Just hurry up, though. I have some unfinished business to attend to." Almost with inhuman speed, Zarissis flew to her bed, much to the amusement of Gogron. Tel remained quiet, simmering with her own shame at having been caught in such a carnal act.

It was only in the process of gathering supplies that Zarissis realized she didn't own a heavier coat, and if the tales she heard of Bruma were true, then the flimsy fabric of her dresses would do nothing to quell the cold. Clearing her voice carefully, she dared to ask, "Gogron, how cold is Bruma?"

It was not Gogron who answered first however. Tel's voice finally squeaked from over the Orc's shoulder. "Is that where your next target is?" She did not bother to hide her excitement as she peered over Gogron's shoulder, now completely immersed in her Sister's next job.

Zarissis nodded and launched into a description of her contract, from the manservant to mounted head and Baenlin's own schedule that put him sitting under the head at night. By this point Tel had put her shirt back on, and was sitting next to Gogron with her legs swung over the bed, listening intently and nodding.

As she finished speaking, Gogron scratched his chin. "The manservant's name is Gromm, you say? Sounds like a Nord. Probably a big one. If he catches you, get ready for a serious fight."

Tel nodded in agreement, resting her head against his arm. "Don't expect to enter this man's house through the front door. Be smart and look for a more conspicuous entrance, like a cellar."

She'd have to be sure to scout around the perimeter then. Before she had a chance to repeat her previous question, Tel confirmed that  _yes, Bruma is quite cold for someone who isn't Gogron_. This made Zarissis frown. She did have her trusty old travelling cloak, but holes had started to wear into the dark green fabric. It was far too thin to keep out the chill that came from snow, but just enough to give a little warmth from the wind.

She sighed. Her coin purse was much lighter than it had been since her stop in the Imperial City. She knew that maybe she ought to have considered buying a cloak while she was there, but Cheydinhal and her old home in Leyawiin were not prone to freezing temperatures. Leyawiin was somewhat more tepid than Cheydinhal, but the minor difference in temperature hadn't bothered Zarissis. The Sanctuary was usually nice and warm – most likely magically heated.

_I can always ask Vicente for a cloak_ , she reminded herself. She'd just been with him earlier, but now she feared he'd be sleeping. Would he be angry if she woke him? The thought made her frown. She still felt very childish before him, and his anger would scare her dearly.

She had seen him angry before, usually at Antoinetta for her high-pitched squealing. His ears were far more sensitive than mortal ears, and so it seemed to be a common agreement that loud noises and the like were best kept to the mess hall and training room where Vicente was far less likely to hear it. Unfortunately, being the resident vampire meant that Vicente was asleep when everyone else was usually awake – the exception being Zarissis, who seemed to spend more of her waking hours at night. She told herself this had to do with the need to report her contracts to him, and not because she stayed up all night enveloped in conversations with him.

Her bag was finally packed, with the exception of a small ration of food, and Zarissis quickly scrambled from the room; she did not intend to stick around to witness the sound of their lovemaking. Standing in the center of the Sanctuary, she stared at the hall that led to Vicente's room, watching, deep in debate with herself. Would she risk waking him up? Or could she bear the frigid flurries of Bruma?

With a heavy heart, she sighed and slowly picked her way down the corridor. As expected, no light shone in the small crack beneath Vicente's door. She lifted her hand, intending to knock, but froze. Her hand lowered, and she stood staring at the door, chewing her lip. Again she raised her hand, but her arm slowly lowered as hesitation set in again. She was afraid of bothering him, but unable to tear herself from the spot.

She was deep in troubled contemplation when the door creaked open, shadows opening before her. Zarissis gasped, unable to help herself.

Vicente stood before her, hair billowing over his shoulders and tangling in spots. She clutched her bag hastily, commanding her eyes to stay on his face so she wouldn't notice his state of dress…or lack therefore. He wore pants of course, but it was still enough to prove distracting.

He didn't look angry…rather, amused. Perhaps somewhat confused, judging by the wrinkles on his forehead as he furrowed his eyebrows. "Yes? Have you come for something?" After a moment of stunned silence on her part, he quipped, "Perhaps a good bye kiss?"

Zarissis flushed intensely, torn from her stupor. "I just need a cloak. For Bruma."

Inwardly she winced at her words. She sounded like a fool, unable to form coherent sentences when placed in front of a half-dressed male.  _It's not just any half-dressed male_ , she reminded herself. This was Vicente, her savior, her boss, a vampire, and a million other things she couldn't put into words. He was older and more experienced than her in all things, and despite that he seemed so thin, she knew the power that lay within. Vampires were not rumored for their strength for nothing.

He seemed to consider her for a moment, as though sizing up the daintiness of her figure. After a long pause of observation he disappeared into the darkened room.

* * *

 

Inside, Vicente hummed in amusement. He had been lying on the stone slab, waiting for the clutches of darkness to take him. He hadn't been asleep, however; his mind had been far too occupied with the prospects of the day.

Vampires were prone to obsessive behavior, and Vicente knew that he was no exception. Granted, compared to most he had his primal side well controlled; however he could not simply shut out all aspects of the beast. He knew he was becoming engrossed with the small Breton when his thoughts wandered to her, recalling the shape of her chin and slope of her neck. It was a dangerous pursuit, that much he knew, but he had lived long enough to know when there was no turning back.

Perhaps it was by a twist of fate that she found herself by his door that afternoon. He had simply laid on his slab, listening to the delicate beat of her heart beyond the door, a small smile graced on his lips. He had at first wondered why she didn't knock but quickly realized it was out of thoughtfulness.

Vicente would have rushed to the door, but he relished the feeling of having a little secret. For those few minutes, he sat in utter darkness, reveling in the sound of her at his door, standing, waiting. He understood that this would quickly become an addiction for him; eventually, his touches would linger just a little bit longer, fingers touching her skin just a little bit more. It would consume him from the inside out until he could finally claim her for his own. Only then would the madness of the hunt wear off.

If only she knew the risk she took capturing his attention. Then again, his vampirism should have been warning enough. He could not scorn her attention now.

At last he feared she would turn away and jumped up from his position, throwing open the door in what could only have been described as a fit of passion. Perhaps it was natural that she simply stood and stared. He realized a moment too late that he neglected modesty, and could not bite back the smile. It was clear that she was more than a little taken by him, and the idea pleased him beyond a doubt.

"Yes?" He asked her, not bothering to hide his own pleasure at seeing her. "Have you come for something? Perhaps a good bye kiss?"

He watched her freckled cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink as she asked for a cloak. The air around her always seemed to be electrified, and it took all of Vicente's willpower not to reach out and stroke his fingers down her neck and over her chest to the swell of her breasts. Briefly he wondered if she were the vampire and he the smitten human for all the power she seemed to hold on him.

Ducking back into his room, he opened his wardrobe to the gray wool cloak that had accompanied him on many nightly outings. Vicente considered himself to be very neat when it came to eating, but even then he knew that if Zarissis examined the cloak too closely – no doubt she would – that she'd find a few specks of blood here and there.

He retrieved it from the hook and returned to the door, where Zarissis was peeking curiously inside. A nervous smile formed on her face as he reappeared, followed by a distinct gaze of relief as the cloak entered her hands.

Vicente simply laughed. "Fear not, I wouldn't let you freeze. Was there anything else you wanted, songbird?" Self-control forgotten, he reached out a hand and cupped her chin, her delicate lips opening slightly as she gasped at the suddenness of his cold touch.

She remained silent, staring at him with a wide gaze. Vicente ran his thumb over her bottom lip, and he felt her shiver at his touch, her mouth quivering gently. He was tempted to move closer, to feel her heat against him, but he knew she had places to be. It certainly wouldn't be good for his Speaker to return and find Vicente in the throes of passion with their newest recruit.

"There's a contract waiting for you, my dear," he whispered to her, willing himself to break the heated silence. "You will return to me once it is finished."

She merely nodded numbly at him as he let his fingers fall from her face. Blinking a few times, she stepped back, her eyes locked on his until she eventually turned the corner and out of his sight. He stood in the doorway of his room, listening intently to her footsteps until they faded from the Sanctuary.

With a satisfied grin, he retreated into the comfortable darkness.

* * *

 

Bruma was  _cold_ , much colder than she expected. Zarissis clutched Vicente's dark cloak around her, burying her face from the wind. The cloak, she discovered, had a scent that was both familiar and comforting to her. On the surface it was musty, and reminded her of the age of the vampire who wore it, but underneath there was a distinct masculine scent and something that reminded her vaguely of magicka potions and old books.

The first inn she'd stopped in on her way to the small city had small beds with flimsy blankets. Zarissis found out the hard way that the nights were even colder than the days, and had to curl up underneath Vicente's cloak for extra warmth. It made her feel secure, albeit a little bit childish as she continuously pressed her nose to the fabric and inhaled. It was silly, she figured, to be this infatuated with a creature who could easily kill her, although she was certain there were worst deaths than having her blood sucked out.

Once at Bruma she left Dusty in the stables underneath a warm blanket that the stable hand was happy to provide. Dusty merely gazed at her with disinterest as she left and instead turned his interest to the apple lying in the outstretched palm of the boy.

The first part of every contract was locating the target without seeming suspicious. Zarissis knew there could quickly be a Black Horse Courier out with a sketch of her face on it if she asked around about a target too much before they died. However, Zarissis felt it was best to assume that Gromm was the Wood Elf's bodyguard. Reason stood that where Baenlin was, Gromm would be, and with any luck she wouldn't forfeit the bonus by killing Gromm.

It only took a quick question to the guards and a batting of eyelashes for Zarissis to find the Inn. The Innkeeper glanced up from the bar he was attending, his portly face gazing over her with vague disinterest. She couldn't imagine Bruma having much business being as far north as it was, but unlike other inns she had stayed in, he didn't seem apt to try to win her favor.

With a sigh, she dropped herself into a barstool, holding her travelling pack on her lap. The innkeeper finished pouring a glass of ale for another patron before strolling over, cleaning a glass with a wet rag. At last he gave a smile.

"Welcome to Bruma, stranger. Hafid Hallowleg. You look like you could use a drink." It was not a rude comment; merely a statement of fact. The winds had been picking up outside, and Zarissis was sure her lips had started turning blue.

She rubbed her hands together and breathed on them, trying to get the blood flowing again. "Looks like a blizzard is coming. I thought I was going to freeze!" She sincerely hoped the snow would wait until after she was on the road; the last thing she wanted was to be stuck in Bruma for several days more than necessary.

Hafid nodded, putting a mug down in front of her. "Mead?" He asked, although he had already begun pouring it. Zarissis simply sat there, not sure what else to say. She was not familiar with the beverage, but had heard plenty of rumors about the love the Nords had for the drink.

It was heavy on her tongue, burning with a sweetness she had not expected. Quickly swallowing, Zarissis coughed into her sleeve, resulting in a hearty laugh from the Nord Innkeeper.

"You get used to it in time. What brings you to Bruma, stranger?"

Zarissis pulled out a few gold pieces for the drink. "I'm here to visit my uncle, Gromm. Not sure where he lives though. It's my first time here." She smiled sweetly from behind the mug, trying to appear as innocent as possible.

"Gromm, eh? Ain't he a Nord? How does a Nord get a teeny little Breton girl for a niece?" The man guffawed for a minute or two, his portly face turning deep pink as he roared with laughter. As the amusement died down, he simply shook his head. "Don't mind me; just having a little fun at your expense. Don't worry, I believe you. Why, my cousin is a Khajiit! Who would have thought?" He wiped the tears from his eyes and took the gold Zarissis laid on the table.

"As for your previous statement, I am acquainted with Gromm. He lives across from the Fighters and Mages Guild with his employer. Will you need a room to stay tonight, miss?"

Zarissis simply shook her head and took another swig of the harsh alcohol. "No, that's okay. I'm sure my uncle will let me stay with him. He's always been so nice, you know." She sighed sweetly, resting her head on her hands. In that position, she was the portrait of innocence.

Hafid merely shook his head, a small grin on his face. "I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything else, you know where to find me." He gave her a quick nod before leaving to attend his other patrons. Zarissis waited for a few minutes, pretending to take drinks of her mead. She had a few hours before her contract, but she didn't want to be inebriated.

Perhaps she could poke around at the Mages Guild in the meantime. It would help pass the time.

* * *

 

The sun had finally set past the horizon when Zarissis left the Mages Guild. She had intended just to have a look around, but got wrapped up in some practical joke involving an idiot mage and an invisibility spell. It wasn't a complete waste – not only did she earn a recommendation for the Mages Guild, but she also learned a few things. They were horrified to discover that Zarissis didn't know a single destruction spell, and it took the better part of an hour teaching her the incantations for flames and ice, as well as an open lock and dispel spell. Over all, she considered it quite the evening, and a productive use of her time to boot.

Baenlin's house was exactly where Hafid said it would be – or at least she hoped it was his house. It wasn't as though there was a nameplate in front of it. However, Zarissis was relieved to discover a cellar door. In the rain and snow of Bruma the lock had long since frozen over and she was quite relieved for those few hours spent in the Guildhall.

Focusing on her intent, Zarissis whispered the arcane words for fire. The flame grew between her outstretched fingers, just a flicker at first. She could dimly feel the warmth, although not once did it scorch her. Slowly, as the flames intensified, the lock began to heat up and steam.

Carefully allowing the spell to flicker out, Zarissis then used her magicka to open the lock. That one came much easily to her, and in a matter of seconds she was in.

The cellar was dank and dingy, and it wasn't until she allowed the hatch to close behind her that Zarissis realized something fundamentally important about herself: she was afraid of the dark.

It was quite silly really for an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, a cold-blooded murderer, to be afraid of something so simple as shadows. They were supposed to be her friends, to hide her and keep her secrets. Yet Zarissis felt the tug of dread all the same.

She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. Never before had she been suspended in such pure darkness, much less in the home of a man who may or may not be her target. It wasn't about what could or couldn't be lurking in the murk – it was about the unknown. What if she ran into something and alerted the whole house? What if there were Skeevers?

She shivered. Schemer was a Skeever, but he was cuddly. Zarissis suspected he was Vicente's pet, as the rat seemed inclined to sit on his feet while he read at night. Vicente… Thinking about the vampire made her bite the inside of her cheek. Would he laugh if he knew her dilemma? The shadows were his light. He could move as gracefully through them as a serpent in water.

Holding her hands close to her body, Zarissis whispered the words for fire and watched as the glow began beneath her fingertips. She felt her terror spike, worrying about what her light may reveal in the darkness.

A soft radiance shone in the room, and she squinted at her surroundings. She was simply in a wine cellar, of course. Here and there were a few baskets of fruit and vegetables. Zarissis picked her way past them, heading for the door at the top of the stairwell.

Whispering a quick prayer to the Night Mother, Zarissis let the flames trickle out of her hands before opening the lock. The one good thing about spells was that the tell-tale sounds of lockpicks breaking were gone, and Zarissis was able to push open the door to the house with ease.

She appeared to be in a hallway. From beyond her enclave Zarissis could see the orange flicker of light on the walls, indicating that Baenlin had heated the fireplace and was now reading in his favourite chair. Hopefully he'd be too distracted to notice a dark streak dash through the shadows.

Touching the band on her finger, Zarissis called upon the Detect Life spell. Two purple figures shot to life before her eyes, separated from her only by a wall. With a silent exhale, Zarissis pressed her way into the room, careful to hug the darkness. Across from her, a stairwell rose to a second floor.

Pressing a glance to the two men, Zarissis was pleased to see Baenlin preoccupied reading and Gromm with his back to her, warming his hands at the fireplace. Carefully, she darted to the stairs, gently climbing on the balls of her feet. There was very little squeaking, and any miniscule noise she may have made was swallowed by the crackling of fire.

It took half a minute of navigation for Zarissis to find the room that she suspected was above Baenlin's head. There was nothing spectacular in the old bedroom; simply a double bed and a dresser. It was only through her surveying that Zarissis noticed the odd shape on the wall behind the armoire.  _Gotcha._

She tapped lightly on the wood, the sound reverberating back to her. Suspicions proven, then. Zarissis pressed both hands and gently wiggled the door from the wall, a small dusty crawlspace appearing behind it then. She was quick to drop to her knees, slipping into the tiny space.

At the far end of the tunnel were the ties for the trophy. Zarissis crawled to them, grime collecting on her armor. She could simply undo the ties…or she could try something new. Closing her eyes, Zarissis focused on the magicka brimming inside of her and imagined what the dense forests of Skyrim may look like.

The cold stretched up her arm, despite the little ball of ice and air trapped in her palms. Holding it close to the ties, Zarissis watched as the metal began to crack and freeze, frost gathering on the back of the wall. The ice stretched along to where the ties met at the wall, and she quickly cut the spell. It took no more than a few seconds for the weight of the Minotaur head to overwhelm the brittle bonds. With a simple crack, Zarissis listened in wonderstruck awe as the Minotaur head crashed to the floor below it, landing with a sickening snap and the dull crunch of bones.

Gromm's wailing was almost imminent. Realizing the danger, Zarissis pulled herself from the crawlspace and replaced the door, quickly drawing on her ring for Detect Life. Baenlin's life force flickered and dimmed until it was gone; meanwhile, Gromm had fallen to his feet.

Zarissis had her chance. In his own grief, Gromm never noticed the dark shape slink to the cellar door, nor did he hear the sound of the hatch opening and closing. He simply sat with tears running down his face at the death of the man he admired most.

She was out, and she succeeded! Zarissis almost jumped with triumph, but decided better of it. She would have a bit of time to leave before Gromm reported the death and so she made no sudden run for it. Huddled beneath Vicente's cloak, Zarissis entered the Mages Guild one last time to fetch her gear before leisurely walking down the street, allowing the small flecks of snow to dart her pale cheeks and nose.

_It is beautiful to be alive_ , she thought to herself.


	10. Bad Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarissis returns from her contract to receive her reward...and much more than she bargained for.

This was no good, _simply no good._

Ungolim drummed his fingers together nervously, gazing up at the statue of Lady Luck in Bravil. Why was Mother quiet? Why did she not share her secrets with him?

It had been like this for many months. Every now and then, the Listener would hear the faintest whisper – usually a name, and if he was lucky, a location. Even then, recruitment was much slower than it ever had been.  Lachance was the last sent to retrieve a new member, and _oh boy_ had Uvani thrown a fit over that. Ungolim sent him to Leyawiin, despite Uvani’s presence as Speaker there, and he hadn’t received a minute of peace and quiet since. And then he was accused of favoring the Cheydinhal Speaker! How preposterous.

The Night Mother had been _specific_ , though. _Send Lucien Lachance_. When her words were so few, how could Ungolim ignore it?

He began to pace in front of the statue, running his fingers over the stone reverently. In his mind he pleaded, begged, and swore his undying loyalty and commitment, but the Night Mother said nothing. She never did.

* * *

 

Zarissis hummed happily to herself as she entered the Sanctuary once more. Her contract went splendidly. No one suspected a thing and she even got a few magic spells out of it.

It was like a whole new world had been opened before her. She knew that as a Breton she was more attuned to magic than most of the other human races, but never had she suspected it would be as addicting as it was. Every time she stopped for a rest along the road, Zarissis concentrated on summoning fire and ice, feeling the buzz of magicka between her fingers. It wasn’t much, but with practice she could be better.

There was the occasional chorus of girlish laughter from the dining room, and Zarissis felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t spent as much time with her Sisters as she ought to have. She glanced down the hall where she knew Vicente was waiting for her.

He had lived for three hundred years; she was certain a little more waiting wouldn’t hurt him. Slinging her satchel into an arm chair, she entered the dining hall where the gaggle of women were hovered over pancakes.

As soon as Antoinetta saw her walk in, she shrieked and dived from her seat, pulling Zarissis by the arm. The red-head found herself plopped into a chair and inserted into the middle of a conversation about beheading.

“While Gogron is partial to removing their heads, I think an arrow in the throat is just as sufficient,” Tel announced as she inspected her nails. It seemed that she didn’t approve of his methods, although she didn’t say as much. “Too messy, you know?”

“I gotcha, girl,” Antoinetta laughed, and stuffed a bite of pancake in her mouth, trying to speak around it. “I jus’ prefer foo sfab ‘hem.” A little bit of syrup dribbled down her chin and Antoinetta was quick to wipe it with her finger before inserting it between her lips.

Ocheeva sighed, her disappointment seemingly directed at Antoinetta’s messy eating habits, although she kept her opinions to herself and instead added another layer of pancakes to her plate. Antoinetta finally managed to swallow her mouthful of breakfast and launched into a detailed story about some wealthy man she was assigned to kill, describing the man’s luxury bathtub and how he met his end in a puddle of blood and water.

It gave Zarissis a moment to contemplate her own methods of assassination. So far she’d only done two official contracts, plus her initiation kill. Rufio was stabbed in the chest, Captain Tussaud met his end through an open throat, and her most recent kill had been staged as an accident. Looking back on her experience, she couldn’t quite pinpoint what she preferred the most. It did take her a while to warm up to the idea of killing, but that was the nature of her job – and the price she paid for freedom. All in all it wasn’t so bad, and she did feel some fulfillment watching the life drain from someone’s eyes.

 _I’m becoming a proper psychopath,_ she mused happily, taking the time to help herself to the remainder of breakfast. Antoinetta made a show of stealing a bite from her plate, to which Zarissis responded by sticking her tongue out, warranting a happy giggle in response.

It wasn’t so bad having a family, honestly. It was certainly not what she expected from joining an assassin’s guild, but the presence of her sisters helped fill the hole in her heart that was created when she ran away from home. She missed her family dearly, but even the love of her mother and father wasn’t worth the loss of her freedom and a life of boredom. She just hoped they’d forgive her one day.

 _They likely think me dead._ The thought was unbidden and she quickly shoved it away, stuffing her mouth before dismissing herself from the table. That was definitely not a place she wanted to go to in her mind; there was only guilt and a distant feeling of loneliness to follow.

Her feet took her to a familiar room at the end of the hall. Zarissis was surprised to see the door cracked open, light spilling out of the threshold. The head of the vampire within jerked up at her approach.

“Songbird,” Vicente purred as she entered, his gaunt face lighting up at the sight of her. He quickly set his book back on the table, standing to greet her. She felt her own mouth contort into a smile at his warm greeting, and in a blink of an eye he was before her, pulling her into his embrace.

Zarissis lingered in his hold for a few moments, inhaling the sharp scent of the soap that clung to his skin. As he pulled away he ran a hand over her head, fingers brushing against the flyaway orange hairs that haloed around her face.

“I’m glad to see you back and in high spirits, my dear. I have heard the news about Baenlin. Excellent work.” The smile that graced his lips as infectious, and she soon found herself beaming at him in return. She wondered briefly if it should concern her how attached she felt to him already or her desire to please him and made him proud. It was a feeling she’d not experienced since her youth, during the hunting trips with her father. Somehow, Vicente managed to make her feel like a girl again, although not in an unpleasant way.

“I missed you,” she admitted, glancing to her feet in the process. He’d been on her mind each night during her trip, replaying their most recent interactions in her head over and over. It was shocking how quickly they’d been thrown together and already she found herself daydreaming about his lips on her neck, hands groping in places they shouldn’t be. It was sinful, some would say…but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

His hand cupped her chin, pulling her eyes up to his. “I missed you too, sweetling.” Although his grip was firm, his touch was surprisingly gentle all the same. After a moment his hand fell to her shoulder and another smile adorned his face.

“I owe you a reward, don’t I?” Zarissis couldn’t help but think that the expression he wore was somewhat more mischievous than she was used to. Had her mind not turned to mush at his touch, she may have recognized the loss of professionalism that Vicente normally wore.

She was shocked out of her thoughts when Vicente sat down and promptly pulled her into his lap, legs straddling his waist. This was far more intimately close than she’d ever been to him and her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of red, the color stark against her normally pale skin. Vicente merely lifted a hand and stroked over the warm flesh on her face, feeling the blood rush beneath his fingers.

“Is this what you call a reward?” Zarissis’s voice broke as she whispered her joke, only to have her voice die in her throat as Vicente’s hand reached behind her and balled in her hair, pulling her head backwards in a sharp motion. Her fingers clutched his arms as a hiss of pain escaped her lips, only to end in a delightful gasp when Vicente’s lips pressed against her throat. He left gentle bites in his wake, delicate bruises forming beneath the onslaught of his teeth. She couldn’t help but quiver in his grasp.

This was unlike anything she’d ever conceived. His roughness was surprisingly arousing, and she squirmed in his arms as heat overcame her. _Anything_ , she realized, she’d do anything to relieve the agonizing pressure that was building inside her.

Vicente released her hair and tilted her head back up, assaulting her lips with his own. She was overwhelmed with blinding arousal as his tongue invaded her mouth, hand gripping the back of her neck almost painfully. She was dimly aware of his faint trembling; hand shaking as he reached forward to caress her face.

Reality hit her again as the deafening sound of tearing leather filled the room, and she looked down to watch as Vicente pried her armor apart with inhuman strength, leaving mere rags hanging from her shoulders. Her chest was bare to the chill of the room now, modesty unveiled before the vampire who she now knew as her lover. He cradled her breast in his hand, bringing cool lips against her nipple.

Zarissis cried out in pleasure, leaning back to rest her hands on the table behind her. Her back arched as he continued his ministrations, tongue deftly swirling around each breast with the familiarity of an experienced lover. He brought his fingernails down on her sides, angry red scores of scratches adorning her pale flesh. It burned, and Zarissis bit down on her lip as tears pricked in her eyes…yet at the same time it filled her with the same longing, pleasure intensified as she watched Vicente press his lips to the lacerations, tongue hungrily lapping up the beads of blood that began to form.

A deep, inhuman growl escaped his lips and he threw her onto the table, shoving candles and papers alike to the floor to make room for the temptress whom he held in his lap. His own arousal pressed painfully against his pants, and it took everything he had not to seize her then and there. Instead he waved his hand toward the door, the telekinesis spell slamming it shut.

Alone, they were finally alone. He had put off his own instincts and needs for so long; he could not bear to go another agonizing night without her warmth. He needed her, needed to consume her, needed to feel her breath on his skin and her cries of pleasure in his ears. The vampire demanded to be sated and fed, and Vicente could no longer fight it.

Zarissis watched with wide eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt, casting the material to the side. She had seen him shirtless, of course, but last time she’d been so bashful. This time, however, she allowed her eyes to linger uninhibited, admiring the man who stood before her.

He was thin, that much was true, but where Zarissis may have expected to see ribs she was a little more surprised to see rippling muscles. He was flawless in her eyes, and she cast her gaze downward to follow the dark trail of hair, only blushing and looking away when she noticed his pants.

Her embarrassment and pure innocence was adorable. Vicente watched her face redden at the sight of his arousal, grinning as he relished her naivety.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and Zarissis tore her gaze away from the spot on the door. Crimson eyes met green, and Vicente carefully pulled himself over top of her, table creaking beneath his added weight.

She began to understand how prey felt before the attack of a hunter. Vicente’s eyes were intense and heated as he loomed over her, the red of his irises only a thin ring around his dialated pupils. With incredible purposefulness, he lifted her hand and pressed it against his erection, fingers scraping against the taut fabric. She inhaled sharply as he shuddered from her touch, and of her own free will she carefully pulled the drawstrings of his pants.

Need clouded her mind, and she tried to grasp the reality in front of her. He was much larger than she would have expected, but this was the first time she held a man in such a way. She leaned upward and pressed kisses to his neck, sucking the skin there as she freed him from his constraining clothes. Vicente trembled in her arms while she left her own bruises on his skin, hungrily biting his flesh with more force than he had given to her.

Her roughness nearly sent him beyond the point of no return, his mind teetering over the line between control and the monster that threatened to spill forth. At last he pushed her down, removing her treacherous mouth from his neck.

“Why is it that you’re still clothed?” His voice was meant to simply be a teasing whisper, but instead a husky growl passed his lips. Zarissis gazed at him beneath heavy lids, her chest heaving as she panted beneath him. _By Sithis, she was beautiful_ ; Vicente could only hover above her in wonder as his eyes traced the mounds of her breasts, memorizing the pattern of the clusters of freckles over her chest and the rosy peaks of her nipples.

He finally reached down and began to pull the last of her leathers over her hips with agonizing slowness. She whimpered at his touch, watching as he slung her boots and armor to the floor. She was naked before him, aside from her smallclothes. Another blush crept over her face as his eyes raked over her, finally resting on the moist spot of arousal between her legs.

Vicente dragged his fingers over her ankle and through the inside of her thigh, making her squirm at the chill of his touch. His eyes settled on her face as he finally gave her what she’d been wishing for the entire time.

He pressed his palm to her core, massaging his fingers over her smallclothes. Vicente couldn’t help the victorious grin that broke over his face when she screamed out, arching into his touch. She was soaking through her clothes at the barest stroke, body quivering as his fingers lingered over the bud of pleasure. In one swift motion he disposed of her remaining underthings.

The vampire in his mind purred at the sight of her, disheveled hair haloed around her head as she lay on the table, her legs spread around his hips with her sex bare to him. He gave her an amorous smile as he pressed a finger inside her, feeling her tormenting warmth tight around the digit.

Zarissis cried out and gripped the wrist between her legs. Everything he’d been doing before had been so pleasurable, but this felt like a painful intrusion. Never before had anyone done this to her, and she suddenly began to feel doubts about where they were heading.

“Vicente –” she warned, but he cut her off by removing the grasp she had on him and pinning her wrists above her head with his free hand. Fear spiked through her as she gazed up at him, but he seemed unrelenting. He began to move his finger inside her once more and she merely clenched her teeth, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over her eyes.

“Trust me,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “The pain will be over soon.”

Vicente gazed down on her painful expression and felt his own feelings of guilt arise at hurting her. Still, it could not be helped, and if anyone was to help her through this it would be him. Had it been Lucien in his place, Vicente had no doubt he would have been carelessly rough with her and leave her terrified.

He angled his hand upward and pressed, searching for the spot that would send her spiraling into pleasure again. He must have been successful as her hips jerked of their own cognition and a tiny gasp escaped her lips.

Moving his fingers once more, Vicente added another digit. This time she really did sob out, tears staining her cheeks even as she gasped in painful pleasure at his touch. He kept a steady rhythm, noting as her skin began to redden and her chest heave with quick breaths.

Zarissis’s legs clenched around him, and Vicente watched her eyes squeeze shut, mouth opening into the beginning of a pleasurable scream.

Just as quickly as he had entered, he was gone, and Zarissis sobbed out in protest as his fingers were removed from her core. The pressure was unimaginable, and she gripped his arms desperately.

“ _Please Vicente, please_ ,” she wept against him, watching as he regarded her with hungry eyes. She didn’t care about the pain, not anymore. She wanted him, no, _needed_ him. Nothing mattered except the man in front of her.

They had been the words he was dying to hear. Vicente flashed a predatory smile and hitched her legs around his waist, pressing his own arousal into her. He felt the tear of her maidenhood even as she cried out, followed by the distinctive scent of blood.

He felt unbelievably large inside her. Zarissis had never experienced the intimacy of a man, but now she understood why some referred to it as ‘making love’. His body was flush against hers and she felt one with him, clawing at his back as he began to move inside her.

The pain dimmed to an intense bliss, and he clutched her close to him as he gasped into her ear. Never had Zarissis heard such a beautiful sound as the needy moan that passed his lips, uttered into the warmth of her shoulder. He kissed her neck as he rocked into her, speed increasing with each passing second.

 _The table may not take this sort of violent love-making_ , she thought mindlessly as it groaned beneath the friction of their bodies. She was not given a moment to contemplate it further as he gripped her thigh closer and savagely thrust into her, tearing pleasurable shrieks from her lips.

The pressure was building again, and she was certain she was going to fall apart. She was dimly aware of her own pleading and babbling, _please, yes, harder, don’t stop, oh Vicente_. His thrusts were becoming more erratic and she knew he must have been just as close as she was, his own gasping and cries of pleasure becoming just as loud as hers.

Zarissis reached down and dug her fingernails into his backside, pulling him into her as she thrust back down with equal roughness. Her sudden touch on him sent him spiraling over the edge, teeth sinking into the soft flesh on her shoulder as his climax overtook him.

She screamed. The feeling was unlike any other as she tipped over the edge, her insides seeming to clench and pulse at the pleasure. She could hear herself moaning his name over and over, only half aware of his fangs in her neck. That too was unimaginable bliss, and she held his head close as the euphoria began to wear off, pressing him to drink more of her blood.

With her eyes closed, Zarissis felt joy overcome her. She never could have fathomed the exhilaration she experienced before, and to have shared such an event with Vicente…her heart warmed at the thought of his name, even at the sting of his sucking on his neck. She hissed as he withdrew his teeth and placed a kiss on her skin.

“Feeling good?” He murmured, running his fingers over her flushed cheeks. Gods, she looked beautiful. Zarissis gazed back with her lips parted as she took deep breaths, trying to regain air after their passionate encounter. Her eyes were heavy as she regarded him, reaching forward to brush his loose hair behind his ears.

“I love you,” she blurted, blushing deeply at her own words. She had never loved anyone before, but the way he made her feel…if love was real, then this had to be it. Zarissis never wanted to leave the cold confines of his arms. She didn’t care if he was a vampire or if he was dead or if he murdered for a living. No one had cared for her in such a way, and even looking at him made her heart race faster.

Vicente tilted his head to the side, a delicate smile stretching across his features. To watch her, so insecure as she confided in him, warmed his heart. “I love you too, little bird.” Vicente leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling her heartbeat patter beneath her skin. He wanted to savor every moment with her, commit the details about her to memory. If only he could remember the taste of her flesh on his lips, he’d be happily dead.

At his response she threw her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face into his chest, earning a hum of approval from Vicente. He rolled her on top of him and held her close, smelling the result of their passion on her skin. After a few moments of cuddling, Vicente felt her muscles relax and her head droop against his neck as she fell asleep. He couldn’t fight the grin that overtook his features.

She was beautiful, and she was his, like a dark gift from the Night Mother herself. Vicente closed his eyes and allowed himself to drop his guard, falling into a restful nap while he waited for her to wake up.

* * *

 

The first thing Zarissis was aware of was how cold her bed seemed to have gotten over night. It wasn’t exactly an unpleasant sensation; her skin felt flushed and warm and the coolness beneath her was quite welcome. She pulled the blanket that was around her closer to her body, and was rewarded with her bed humming in amusement – her ‘bed’ naturally being the naked vampire beneath her that was reclined with a hand behind his head as he regarded her with a cheerful smile.

“Good evening, sweetling,” he murmured, trying in vain to disguise his immense pleasure. “It is not every day that I get to wake up with a beautiful, naked woman on top of me.”

Zarissis’s face flushed as she regarded him through sleepy eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“Oh, long enough to hear you snore,” he teased, wrapping long strands of orange hair around his fingers. Zarissis dropped her head back on his chest, contemplating sleep again, when she heard something she’d never expected to hear from him.

With her ear pressed against him, the light sound of a slow heartbeat thumped from within his chest. It wasn’t like a typical human’s heartbeat; each pulse was several seconds apart and far slower than any human heartbeat she’d ever heard. As if in recognition of her observation, Vicente hummed in amusement.

“Your blood has done wonders for my physique. I suppose I can say my cold heart only beats for you?” He flashed fangs with an exceptionally large smile.

“Is that a hint you’d like breakfast?” Zarissis teased in response, running a finger through the light dust of brown hair on his chest. She was surprised to find that there was no residual pain in her neck, and upon further observation she couldn’t feel any scabs or scarring either. It must have been something to do with his vampiric powers, and Zarissis couldn’t help but wonder if she was infected now.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, inhaling her scent. “You do smell phenomenal, my love. Perhaps I shall?” He growled into her ear and Zarissis felt heat flare through her body at the pleasurable scraping of his fangs.

Unlike before when she’d been at the peak of her climax, Zarissis was acutely aware of Vicente’s own shallow breathing as he nuzzled her neck, and the way her body shivered each time his teeth scraped against her. She couldn’t hold back the painful shriek that erupted when he finally pierced her sensitive skin.

It almost felt as though she’d been…drugged. The pain ebbed into a mild pleasure, but the world began to spin and soften around her. She felt her muscles go slack involuntarily and the way her body slumped against his.

Zarissis had read many books by scholars and researchers alike, and knew of basic knowledge about the symptoms of venom emitted by the species of Tamriel. It would explain why her puncture wounds healed so quickly, and why a vampire’s bite could pass the disease, as well as her current state of mind. Vampiric venom seemed to have many uses, and she wondered if she could infect herself with it through simply kissing him or if the action of biting and drinking blood released the venom automatically.

So caught up was she in her thoughts that she barely noticed Vicente watching her through curious eyes, long since departed from her neck.

“What are you thinking?” He inquired softly, stroking her hair back as he held up her limp body. It was almost frustrating the lack of movement she seemed to have, and had she been with anyone but Vicente the helplessness would have sent her into a frenzy of panic.

“Contemplating your many special abilities, like the one to paralyze me and render me vulnerable.” It was a snide remark, tinged with a hint of sarcasm, but he merely narrowed his eyes in a playful manner.

“I haven’t heard you complain yet, especially last night when you were holding me.”

His smile was infectious. It was impossible for her to feel any bitterness toward him; besides, she knew exactly what he was before she decided to be stripped down in front of him. In a way it was exciting to have a creature considered mythological for a lover – a boyfriend even, if she could call him that.

“Of course I wouldn’t complain.” The feeling began to ooze back into her arms and she carefully squirmed back into a cuddling position, her body wrapped precariously around his, leg thrown half-hazardly over his groin. “Feeling full now?”

“Oh certainly. But there is the matter of making you breakfast, yes?” Instead of continuing to cuddle her as she’d hoped, Vicente removed her attachments to his body and swung off of the stone slab, reaching for his pants strewn across the floor.

A pout formed on her lips as she watched him change, letting her eyes linger on his body. “Now?”

Vicente laced up his pants and began to hunt for something on the floor before returning to her place on his bed. She squealed as he seized her by the hips and pulled her toward him, earning a moan as her pelvis became flush with his body.

He grinned mischievously and pulled his shirt over her head. “Now.”

* * *

 

Zarissis was in an exceptionally good mood. Patting Sufferthorn at her hip concealed beneath the waist of her pants, she followed Ocheeva diligently through the marketplace.

Normally a woman wearing pants was unusual for this region, but a quick glance in any mirror could confirm that Zarissis looked very little like a merchant’s daughter and now bore the ragged appearance of many adventurers. She was conscious of her toned arms and the dirty tan that had spread over her face recently, as well as the messy state of her hair. Typically it was painstakingly braided, but she had thrown it into a disorganized bun at the back of her head, flyaway hairs crowning her face.

“ _Apples_ ,” Zarissis read from the grocery list squashed in her hands. “ _For Lucien_.” This shopping trip was turning out to be quite the expedition, and already she struggled to keep the various food items inside the sack on her back.

 _Curse Vicente_. How quickly he volunteered her! When Ocheeva asked for someone to help her, Vicente didn’t even bother asking Zarissis what she wanted to do. It was probably best that Ocheeva pulled her away quickly or she would have hit him.

She didn’t want to think about what he’d do in response.

“Why does Lucien need so many apples?” Zarissis frowned as Ocheeva pulled open the sack on her back and shoved an armful of fruit in it. She grunted over the weight and made a mental note to say something to the man later.

Ocheeva chuckled low and throatily. “Many reasons, my dear. Pray to our Mother that you never witness any of them first hand.”

Zarissis frowned. It was quite a cryptic response, but the tone of the Argonian’s voice suggested that she better drop it. Maybe Lucien could provide her insight later…although at the present time, Zarissis was half-tempted to throw them at him next time she ran into him.

“I heard you got a promotion,” Ocheeva began again, turning to give her a toothy smile. “Congratulations.”

She quickly ducked to hide her face as a crimson blush blossomed over her cheeks. _Reward indeed_. The day after their love-making Vicente decided to inform her of her actual success and advancement to Slayer. That, of course, was followed by her clothes being torn from her body, _yet again_.

Antoinetta had been kind enough to find her a replacement set of armor when she snuck back into the living quarters at night wearing Vicente’s clothes. The blonde had giggled and demanded all the details, already guessing what had transpired between the two.

Of course, the whole sanctuary knew by that point. Lucien made sure of it after he saw her in Vicente’s clothes one morning.

“Thank you,” Zarissis muttered to Ocheeva, who chuckled happily.

“No need to be so embarrassed, child. Our Dark Brothers and Sisters are allowed to love and have relationships. Vicente has been a part of this Sanctuary for a very long time, acting as a mentor and in some cases as a father to us. I’m happy that both of you have each other.”

Ocheeva smiled at her before reading over her shopping list again, marking off the last of the items. “Teinaava and myself were nearly raised by Vicente. Lucien found us, you know, as hatchlings. He was just a boy then, didn’t even know how to take care of himself let alone two Argonian infants. Vicente directed him and showed us many things. I admire him greatly, and you as well.”

Zarissis blushed again and looked down. She felt barely old enough herself, yet to know that Vicente had been with everyone else as they grew up was…unusual, to say the least. Still, he certainly had more than a lifetime of women to choose from, and he told her he loved her.

She frowned. “So what happens now? I mean I’m human, and he’s not. I’m happy to have him, but it’d be weird for him to see me old when he looks so young.”

At her words Ocheeva gazed at her and tilted her head, rubbing her scaled chin in thought. “Well, if he’s serious about you, I imagine he might consider turning you. You’d be able to share the night with him, then.”

There was an idea Zarisiss had only considered in passing. Being a vampire? Vicente seemed happy enough, and killing sent her into enough of a bloodlust that maybe drinking blood wouldn’t be so bad. It was surreal, though. Would he really want to be with her forever?

Ocheeva motioned for her to follow, pulling Zarissis from her thoughts. “We’re done shopping, let’s head back. If you’re really bothered, I’d recommend asking Vicente himself. In my experience, he’s always been very kind and understanding toward any kind of question. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

She did love him, but the idea of asking him if he wanted to be with her forever was intense. Still, she’d give it a thought. Throwing the bag of food over her back, Zarissis followed Ocheeva back to the Sanctuary, her questions still running through her mind.

* * *

 

Lucien scowled over the rim of his cup, his mouth set into a hard line. This kind of gaze would have frightened off even the hardiest assassins, but the vampire before him merely glared coldly back. There was very little that could break the external façade of Vicente Valtieri.

The old vampire was no fool, but neither was Lucien.

“She was _mine_ , you know,” Lucien snarled at last, breaking the silence. Internally he fumed. It was a gross shock to him when he walked into the kitchen of the Sanctuary after a long day of contracts to find Zarissis wearing an oversized grey shirt that _certainly_ wasn’t _hers_ , and a shirtless vampire who was smirking like he’d won the entire betting pool at the Arena.

“I was under the impression that she is an independent adult with the capacity to make her own choices.” Vicente’s voice was cold, and his look equally unamused.

Lucien jumped from his chair and threw his cup down, the metal goblet clattering noisily against the stone. “You _SEDUCED_ her! You call that independent?” He snarled in a rage and knocked the candles from the table, reminding Vicente vaguely of an overgrown child.

“She had the ability to say no, Lucien. That’s more free will then you would have given her.”  He watched Lucien with the look of a disapproving parent, but offered no further information on his blossoming relationship with the young assassin in question. He knew Lucien and had prepared for this. All the same, whatever his Speaker thought now didn’t matter. Vicente walked a fine line between man and monster each day, and in his mind she was now with him. He had mated with her, given her everything he had to offer. He would long out-live Lucien, and with his blood running through her veins, so would Zarissis.

He wouldn’t let her go, not now. The mere thought of her set his veins on fire, a desire that could not be quenched. Drinking her blood was like a drug, if only for the thought of a piece of her being with him. Vampires were obsessive over their possessions, and Vicente didn’t want to objectify her, but the vampire part of him wanted to own her. Every time he saw her, it whispered in the back of his mind that she was _his_ , and he’d kill anyone or anything that tried to take her from him.

Vicente fought down the boiling desire that burned within him as he watched Lucien’s fury. The Speaker turned to him at his words.

“Did I ever say no?” His voice was merely a whisper, eyes narrowed dangerously. Vicente now knew they were walking on treacherous ground. Lucien wielded the past like a weapon, ready to slap the vampire with it any chance he had.

Vicente’s words came out in a growl. “I would say it was I who never had the chance to say no _. Do not forget who seduced who, Lucien_.”

The Speaker took two steps forward, his fist colliding with Vicente’s jaw with more force than the vampire knew he had. It didn’t hurt, so to say, but it was the shock of being hit that made Vicente hiss and withdraw.

“We used to be friends, once.” Vicente’s voice came in a murmur, and he touched the place on his chin where he could still feel Lucien’s touch. The Speaker didn’t say anything, merely pulled back and turned away, closing the door behind him as he left Vicente’s room in silence.

He hoped it was merely the stress of the traitor driving a rift between them. Now was not a time for Lucien to isolate himself from his only allies,  not with someone Oblivion-bent on framing the Imperial for the deaths of many members of the Brotherhood.

Vicente only hoped he’d come to his senses soon enough and realize that there was much more at stake than his pitiful crush. They were in dark times, and Vicente feared he’d need to protect more than just Lucien.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zarissis gets more than she bargained for.

Zarissis knelt down, crouching in the shadows against the wall. In front of her guards walked back and forth, the Detect Life enchantment on her ring turning them a luminous purple. Even more figures lit up from other areas of the prison, their lights obscured slightly by the walls between them.

This contract was madness. She'd been told that she'd be the first person to break in or out of the prison…ever. Thanks to Lucien, a secret entrance to the prison from the sewer had been discovered. She'd been relieved when she realized that she wouldn't be wading through several feet of feces and bodily fluids, as the smell would certainly alert the guards to her presence.

After several days in bed together, Vicente eventually had discovered her newly acquired magical talent, and she was thankful that he took the time to teach her the Chameleon spell. There had been several moments where a guard had turned her direction and only a quick cast saved her from being chopped down instantly.

She may have been shaping up to a formidable assassin, but Zarissis knew that armed combat with a trained guard would only end with her face down in a pool of her own blood.

Carefully darting around a corner, she only managed to duck behind a pillar in time to avoid a guard catching sight of her. Her heart pounded in her chest, filling her ears with the sound of rushing blood. Being a vampire must be nice; she knew that Vicente never would have feared such a task and would have glided over the stone floors as stealthily as the dead could. Without the reminder of his own life force pumping in his ears, he'd concentrate fully on the task.

Of course, getting distracted thinking about him didn't help her either. Zarissis clenched her jaw as she watched the back of a retreating guard. In ten seconds he'd turn the corner, giving her only a small window of opportunity to sneak by before the next guard entered the room.

With her bow on her back, she continued to sneak along the floor, the soft leather soles of her boots absorbing the echo of her stride. She ducked the corner, barely a second before she heard the next guard enter the chamber behind her.

Zarissis could tell she was getting closer; faint voices drifted to her from another room up the hall. She rounded the corner, seeing Valen Dreth shouting loudly at a guard through his iron bars. She quickly ducked into the shadows, listening intently.

"Slimy bastard!" Velen hissed, grey hands gripping the steel bars intensely. "One day you'll be in here to rot and die! Just you wait, Imperial scum. They'll come for you too!"

The verbal abuse seemed to be something the guard was considerably used to. With one quick thrust, he jammed his iron gauntlet into the Dark Elf's gut, knocking the wind out of him.

"Keep telling yourself that, Dreth. I'd never stoop to your level."

Zarissis slunk back and recast her Chameleon spell as the guard departed from Valen's cell, the Dark Elf continuing to shout obscenities as he left. He strolled by her hiding place without a second glance, and she waited until the sound of his footsteps faded from view and his purple life-force faded from range.

At last, she turned to face the cell, a snide smile planted on her face. " _Hello_ , Valen Dreth," she whispered, her voice carrying through the stone halls. Keeping the Chameleon spell active, she slid along the floor until she could see him clearly, the position perfect for a straight aim.

Her voice reached his ears and Valen immediately sat up, a look of concern plastered on his face. "Who's there? Show yourself, coward!"

The assassin crouched in the corner merely clicked her tongue. "Such brave words for a dead man. I wonder how the Night Mother will enjoy your company in the Void?" As she spoke she eased the bow from her back, aligning an arrow into place.

Her words seemed to have a visual effect on him. Valen's face became a very pale grey, any blue hue fainting away slowly from his cheeks. "The Night Mo…"

Before he could finish his sentence and call for help, she loosed the arrow, watching as it hissed through the air and buried itself in his chest. Dropping Chameleon, she stood and approached his cell.

Valen laid on his back, the arrow sticking into the air as blood pooled around the shaft and stained his shirt. He opened and closed his mouth, as though attempting to speak, before the life finally drained from his eyes. She waited for his purple life force to fade before dropping back into stealth and departing from the cell, her figure once again becoming obscured by the shadows.

* * *

A deep sigh escaped her lips as Zarissis raised the bowl to her head and tipped it, letting the hot water soak through her hair and drip down her back. She was thankful she stopped in the inn for a night before heading back to Cheydinhal; there was nothing quite as relaxing as a warm bath after a murder. That, and she did crawl through a sewer.

She found a few shots of a fireball and her bath would stay warm indefinitely - or as long as she had magicka to spare. Steam rose from the surface of the water, coiling through the air and pooling against the ceiling of the inn. Zarissis heard once the Dwemer had running, heated water and that their cities were adorned with spas and baths. How wonderful would it be if they could acquire such a thing for the Sanctuary?

As she dipped her head beneath the water to wash out soap, Zarissis' mental alarms went off; the same chill she felt when she first met Lucien. She rose out of the water with a gasp, looking around the room. Nothing seemed amiss, except for the unusual shadow looming from behind the ornate lace screen blocking her view of the doorway. Lucien, as she knew, preferred to use chameleon.

Without a second thought she dove out of the tub, spilling water over the wooden floor. Whoever was in the room of the inn below her would have a wet night, she feared.

The sound of her lunge alerted the intruder, who charged from behind the screen. His sword pierced the wall above her head, just as she snatched up her dagger and drove it into his gut. Once, twice, three times.

The dying assassin released the sword and stepped back, but not before Zarissis grasped his leather jerkin by the collar and tore off the hood. Red eyes stared at her in shock as the life began to dim from them, and Zarissis released the Dunmer, allowing him to fall to the floor.

She searched his pockets hastily, worried about the sound of their fight. Killing someone in public, even in self-defense, wasn't a place she wanted to be. Not to mention that the nondescript black leather armor he was wearing wasn't one she was familiar with.

Zarissis grabbed her bag and made for the window, still very aware of her lack of clothes. But she could hear them coming up the stairs, running to see what the noise was about.

Pushing open the window, Zarissis pulled herself into the chilly night on the roof, dodging out of sight just as they burst into the room. She cast chameleon on herself and climbed across the roof before jumping down into someone's garden.

There were only three exits out of the Imperial City and now the guards would be investigating a murder. A naked women running through the streets would be a horrible giveaway, not to mention questionally embarrassing. She hoped she could keep up chameleon long enough to make it to a city gate, otherwise Zarissis worried she may be out of options. It was not something she was used to - the looming feeling of failure.

_I've completed my contract. Does it count if I don't make it out of the city?_ She bit her lip and ran for it, running completely naked through the Imperial City. Not that they could see her, but it still felt awkward and she wasn't sure she wanted to tell this part of the tale to anyone, except maybe Vicente.

She was just about to round a corner when she collided with someone else, definitely a man by the incredible muscle she slammed her body into, knocking him over in the process. Without seeing his assailant, the man grasped her arm on the way down, pulling her on top of him and canceling her spell.

Laying on top of him, having somewhat recovered from the impact, and now completely visible, Zarissis' face paled. The specific Imperial man below her at first looked angry, shocked, and then disturbingly pleased.

"I always knew you'd come around to me," Lucien smirked as he grasped her hind quarters and squeezed.

She slapped him. "Now is not the time! I need to get out of here." She struggled against him, but Lucien's hands kept her from escaping.

"Do you?"

Zarissis didn't like the smirk on his face, or the sudden change of position as he rolled on top of her.

"Lucien," she snapped, "I killed someone who tried to kill me, so get me out of here."

"And I thought you covered yourself in blood just for me." There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, and Zarissis almost feared what he would do next, if it were not for the guards suddenly sprinting past their hiding place, completely missing the duo in the shadows.

Lucien smirked and pushed himself up, before holding out a hand for her. He said nothing as she reluctantly took his hand and was pulled to her feet.

"I could stop for you to dress but this is much easier." Lucien unclipped the cloak from his dark robes, throwing it around her shoulders.

"Follow me," he instructed as he grabbed her wrist. Not only was his grip almost painful, but she was surprised how agile and quick Lucien was, to the point that she was almost out of breath trying to keep up with him.

"Cast chameleon," Lucien commanded as they turned the corner, an exit in sight. She wondered how he would have possibly known of her magical ability...but it is Lucien, and he already proved to have a tendency for following her. Zarissis quickly powered up and cast it, followed by him. Although she couldn't see Lucien, she could still feel his hand on her wrist, guiding her. He allowed his grip to loosen to take her hand, a little more gentle as he slowed his pace.

Running through the gate wouldn't do. Escaping with a naked girl covered in blood was generally unusual, and Lucien figured his generally dark demeanor would give them a bad impression. Chameleon would do, and would keep questions from being asked. He didn't want to be arrested for kidnap, and Zarissis was obviously running from whatever trouble she managed to get herself into. Naked. Just his luck.

Of course, he would kidnap her. What else would he do? This was such a rare opportunity, he couldn't pass it up. Vicente's fun was over, and one night without her wouldn't hurt.

They quickly crept toward the guarded entry, Lucien's steps becoming silent as he snuck forward. Zarissis knew her steps in the gravel would not be noticed, but her skill clearly could be improved upon when compared to the Speaker.

They cleared the gate, and Lucien quickly pulled her to the side and into the trees where they were hidden before dropping his spell. Zarissis wasn't so quick to comply, but to her shock her spell shorted out suddenly, and she released her magicka was low.

"Lucien," she growled, suddenly feeling suspicious. "Did you drain my-"

She would have finished her demand if it were not for Lucien suddenly pushing her against a tree, trapping her against him, both hands on either side of her head. Instead of the onslaught she thought she would get, the assassin placed his gloved hand over her mouth and motioned for her silence.

Although Zarissis could only look at Lucien in her position, she heard the sound of running, accompanied by the clatter of multiple riders tearing through the forest, clearly looking for something. Lucien merely smirked, still gloating about her loss of clothing.

It was only when their footsteps faded that Lucien released her, but not before pushing on an old knot on the tree. She would have gazed at him in confusion if not for the sudden scraping of wood as the hollowed tree revealed the trapdoor inside.

Lucien stepped forward and pulled open the trapdoor, motioning her forward.

"Welcome to my home. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay."

"Do you think this is a joke?" Zarissis didn't make a move for the entrance. Instead she stood with her arms crossed, scowling.

"On the contrary, my dear. You were in aid and I am helping you, and what better way to help someone than to lend your home?"

She didn't trust his smile, or the soft tone of his voice. Lucien was an assassin, a liar, and someone who was not above manipulation to get what he wanted. However, he was also her Speaker, and crossing him would be a mistake. She shot him another glare and descended through the trap door and down the ladder.

Zarissis was pleasantly surprised to find his quarters to be very open and clean, and somehow very homely too. There were books scattered across a table with various alchemical reagents beside them, a fire blazing in the hearth, and in the far corner Lucien's bed was made up nicely. It all felt so... _human_ , enough to make her feel like she was barging into his home. It was too _intimate_ and made her cheeks burn.

"Is there a problem, _Slayer?"_ Lucien dropped through the trap door behind her, and upon seeing her face, addressed her by her rank with more mirth than he'd ever shown before. She neglected to answer or move, choosing instead to remain still and motionless.

"You prefer silence then? As do I," there was a dangerous tone to his voice, the kind of hidden message that told her she was the prey and he the hunter. He ran his fingers over her shoulders, and the next moment she felt the warmth of his mouth against her neck.

" _Oh no."_ She pulled herself away, quickly moving to the other side of his chambers while pulling his black robe around her tighter. Behind her she heard him sigh.

She turned around. "You better explain yourself."

He blinked, actually having the nerve to look surprised.

"What do I have to explain to you? You are a beautiful woman, and I your Speaker. We are family, are we not?" As Lucien spoke to her, he ran a hand through his dark hair, looking casual for the first time since she met him. Before he always looked serious, or like a proper psychopath, and now he looked like a normal person. Almost genuine.

Almost.

"Ever since I've joined the Dark Brotherhood, you have taken every opportunity to try to seduce me! Not once have my feelings mattered. The only reason I seem to be getting promotions is because you have a hand in it."

Zarissis furiously paced the floor, not wanting to look at him any further. Speaker or not, she would not tolerate this behavior.

Lucien laughed out loud, the sound echoing through his chambers. "You are sharp. It's about time the Dark Brotherhood had someone as intelligent and adept as you. Too bad you squander your talents on a vampire."

"That's what all of this is about? _Me and Vicente?_ I have news for you Lucien Lachance; I picked him!"

"Perhaps for now," Lucien stepped in close, bringing his hand close to her face and stroking his thumb down her chin, "but one day, you won't have a choice."

Her breath caught in her throat, and not out of arousal, but _fear_. Lucien was a terrifying man and up close, looking into his dark eyes she could see apathy, but also the unrestrained desire to kill. Never before had she gazed at someone and been able to tell that they could hurt her unapologetically, and _enjoy it_. Even Vicente's eyes, while red, had something warm to offer; Lucien on the other hand had a black soul, and he liked it that way.

Should she ever try to refuse him again, should she ever say no, _he would kill her_ , that much she knew.

* * *

Zarissis arrived much later in the day back at the sanctuary than she would've liked. _Far too much time was spent at Fort Farragut last night,_ she thought to herself, _Vicente is probably wondering where I've been._

Word travels fast. He would have heard of the successful murder of Valen Dreth, but she hoped he hadn't heard anything about her being with Lucien. The Brotherhood had eyes everywhere - secrets were apart of their business.

After his threat, Lucien coerced her into training both with a dagger, and her new spells. How he knew that she'd been to the Mages Guild, she didn't know, but now she suspected he'd been following her for a while. Confronting him about it just made him throw his head back and laugh.

_Oh Zaris, can I call you Zaris? You are so charming._

Ugh. It made her sick to her stomach. There was a time when his flirtatious remarks and forward behavior would have made her blush, but now she understood him more than she would have liked. Lucien didn't have lovers, he had possessions and _obsessions_. He wanted her to be both, and he would go to whatever means necessary to accomplish that.

Poor Antoinetta. Zarissis didn't know what she saw in Lucien, but there was no way someone would actually want someone so _violent_.

For now she would have to survive the best she could. He was still her superior, her Speaker; her time in the Dark Brotherhood could be over before it ever really began, and Zarissis had a feeling that no one ever _left_ the Dark Brotherhood.

She had a lot to think about, that was for sure. Along with the training and alchemy lessons he gave her.

Ocheeva was waiting for her when she entered the sanctuary.

"Zarissis, we missed you! Where have you been? Oh, I was so worried something happened after you completed your contract." She hugged her, even gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations on another job well done, by the way."

"Thanks, I just got...hung up, that was all." Her answer wasn't very convincing. It hurt even to her ears.

"Hung up?" Ocheeva stared, her hands on her hips.

"By the Speaker." Probably not the best answer to give, but it was true.

"I see." She momentarily paused as if she had something else to say, but then just smiled and added, "Vicente will be most relieved to see you."

And she would be relieved to see him. Hopefully he'd been impressed with her last kill; she'd followed his instructions exactly and hadn't killed a single guard, nor did she get caught.

Zarissis really hoped that would make up for her unfortunate run-in with the Speaker. She had some questions for Vicente, questions that were in need of answers.

His room was uncharacteristically bright for the time of day. She was surprised to find him reading a book at his table with his hair undone, an unusually casual sight for Vicente. He looked up at her approach, and smiled instantly.

"Back again in good health I see." There was his humor. Zarissis found he often had a glint in his eye, like he knew more than he was telling. This was one of those occasions.

"You look like you have all the answers already." She stepped forward and pushed herself onto the table, an action that took a little more effort than it would for someone just a bit _taller_.

"Maybe I do. Just because I have heard the songbird's voice does not mean I do not wish to hear it sing."

She blinked. He was prone to moods, but she wondered what information was causing him to feel poetic. He only gazed back at her from his seat, loose hair and all. Something definitely put him in a good mood.

Zarissis wrapped her arms around his neck. "Well, I completed my contract, for one."

"Yes, so I heard. Valen Dreth lies dead and you infiltrated the Imperial Prison without once getting seen. A clean job if I can say, one definitely deserving of a bonus." Vicente's grin finally broke over his face. "And you saw the Speaker?"

"Is that what has made you so happy?" She felt genuinely confused. She had supposed the contract was why he was in such a good mood.

"Not several hours ago Lucien was here railing about your rejection of him. He is very lucky I have learned patience over the centuries, or I probably would have killed him."

"And that's why you're happy?"

Vicente leaned in for a kiss. "Vampires are possessive creatures. As normal as I try to be, I still find myself falling into typical behavior. It is incredibly fulfilling to know you are mine."

"And you are mine." Zarissis ran her hands through his hair and kissed him back, trapping his lip between her teeth. A guttural growl left Vicente's lips, just nearly as soon as his hands came up to remove hers from his hair.

"As much as I would love to continue this, I do have your reward and bonus to give you. And a _special contract."_ His last words were whispered with more than a little passion, for Zarissis was leaning in for another kiss.

He gave her a slight push away, not making too much effort to misdirect her. "This contract I wouldn't give to just anybody, and I've come to _rely_ upon your abilities."

When it became apparent Vicente wasn't going to give in to temptation and animalistically kiss her like she'd been hoping, she sighed. He could be very stubborn when he wanted to.

"Okay. What kind of _special contract?"_


End file.
